


The Shell of the Old

by SufferingIsAChoice



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Asexual Character, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/F, Gender Dysphoria, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Internalized Homophobia, Internalized Transphobia, Mark Jefferson Is His Own Warning, Nonbinary Character, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, Trans, Trans Character, Trans Chloe Price, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Maxine "Max" Caulfield, Tw for misgendering, Useless Lesbians, chasemarsh, pricefield
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:35:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 42,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27999870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SufferingIsAChoice/pseuds/SufferingIsAChoice
Summary: Max Caulfield is going to college, and goes to volunteer for her friend Kate's group, where she meets a way, way too confident punk. If only she were out yet.The fantastic cover art was made by Blu :)Edit: first fic of mine to reach over one hundred kudos, thank you all, I hope you continue to enjoy it!
Relationships: Maxine "Max" Caulfield/Chloe Price, Victoria Chase/Kate Marsh
Comments: 398
Kudos: 159





	1. The Working Class and the Employing Class

Part One: Preamble

***

Max Caulfield walked out of the hallway and mentally calculated how much money she could afford to spend on dinner that night. The paycheck for working in the writing center wouldn't come in for another day, and unlike Victoria she couldn't just rely on her parents to send her money. Even with her scholarship, and the working two jobs, it was hard enough for them to send her to Blackwell. They had sacrificed their whole lives to send her here, had pinned all their dreams on it. But dreams did not pay for dinner, and if she was right she only had about five dollars to spare, after picking up her prescriptions.

"Hey, Max."

"Oh, hey, Kate," Max said, uncomfortably trying to zip up her hoodie. "I didn't know you had a class in this building."

"I don't," Kate said, tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear, and giving Max a shy smile, "I just...wanted to see someone in here. I didn't expect to see you, though."

"I work here," Max said, gesturing vaguely, as the crowd of college students streamed past them, under the harsh utilitarian lighting.

"I thought you worked as a custodian?" Kate said, as she shoved her books into her backpack.

"On the weekends, yeah."

"Lord, Max, you must be so tired."

"Yeah, well," Max said, shifting from one foot to the other, "some of us are poor, you know."

Kate looked at her. Max was not tall, she knew, and Kate was around her height. They were both small, and yet, even though she had only known Kate a few weeks, since moving here for her freshman year, Max already felt like Kate wanted to protect her. The girl with the cross necklace thought of her as a friend, and wanted to protect her, and did not know, and it made Max throat constrict with anxiety. Then the Christian smiled.

"Say, me and some friends run a sort of project, where we go downtown and distribute food to some of the homeless people down there. We normally have some to spare, afterwards, if you want. I've even got a ride for you."

"I," Max began, and cut herself off, as her stomach rumbled. "Yeah, sure I can do that."

"Good," Kate said, her honest smile widening. "Come on, follow me."

"What about that person you were trying to see?" Max asked, as they slipped into the crowd and started walking towards the exits.

"I, uh, she can wait."

Kate lead her out into student parking, where a beat up old sedan was waiting. Still more than Max could afford for years, though, probably, if she could even get a job after college. Max expected Kate to unlock it, but as they approached a boy, looking like he would be more in place in high school than college, opened the door and waved at them.

"Max, this is Warren," Kate said, as she slid into the passenger seat. "Warren, Max, one more to help with distribution."

"Maximillian!" The boy, Warren said excitedly, as Max sad down in the cramped back seat. "Welcome, nice to meet you and say hello to my sick ride."

"Don't call me that," Max said instinctively, as the engine growled, coughed and finally started.

"Don't call you what?" Warren said, as he gunned the engine and sped out of the parking lot, onto the main roads leading away from Blackwell U, into downtown.

"Just Max," Max said, almost under her breath, as she brushed her growing brown hair out of her face.

"Can do!" He said, completely oblivious to her discomfort. "So how did you meet Kate here?"

"Same dorm. What about you?"

"I am lucky enough to share some passions with Ms. Marsh. Met her through that."

"Although you're way, way geekier about it," Kate laughed easily.

"What can I say, cybercrime for justice, that's me. What about you, Max? You look like a bit a geek yourself."

"I guess."

"Well hey, hang around us long enough and I'll turn you into a hacktivist yet, pleasure to meet you."

"Ignore Warren," Kate said, turning around in her seat and smiling back at Max, as the car pulled into a gravel lot under a bridge, "he's a super genius who got into college way too early and let it go to his head, but he's not a bad guy."

"Not yet, at least! And we're here lads."

"Shut up," Kate said, as she opened the door, but there was a smile in her voice. "Okay, Max, see those kinda scary anarchopunks over there? They'll show you around. Super nice, don't let them intimidate you. What all are we serving tonight?"

"Chili, hotdogs, a bunch of random breads we got," a new voice said, from behind them, as Max looked at the small crowd setting up pots and plates on a few folding tables.

"Ah, good to see you, Chloe."

Max turned, and immediately felt like she was deer in the headlights of a speeding eighteen-wheeler. The punk was sitting on the hood of a pickup, a cigarette between her lips. She was big, was Max's first thought, wiry, and lanky, but big, under her leather battle jacket, where her tank-top with its skull was visible. Her hair was blue, and partially covered with a beanie, and she would not stop staring at Max. As Max gulped, and looked back, she grinned.

"Who's the new girl?" The punk, Chloe, asked, waving in Max's direction.

"Someone from school," Kate said brightly.

"Ah, another Blackwell rich kid."

"I'm not," Max said, automatically.

"Not what?" The punk said, as she stood, and stretched, casually showing the knife on her belt, and another knife in her boots.

"Not rich," Max said, wishing she were anyone else.

"Listen, kid," Chloe said, taking a step forward, and smiling, "you go to Blackwell. Everyone who goes there is a bougie fuck, no offense Kate."

"None taken," Kate chimed in.

"You got a name?"

"Max."

"Well, Max," Chloe said, now uncomfortably close to Max, as she blew smoke in her face, "listen up, I didn't spend day shoplifting from stores for us to stand around doing nothing. We've got people to feed. Feel like helping?"

"Uh, sure."

"Good," Chloe said, turning, and walking towards the table, "I'll be keeping my eye on you, Max."

"Don't mind her," Kate said, patting Max on the shoulder and smiling, "she reacted way better to you than she did to Warren. She just doesn't like boys or men."

"Right," Max said miserably, looking away, "that makes sense."


	2. Have Nothing in Common

“Hey,” Soft9282008 said, the message popping up with no warning, “I just saw you updated your bio thing. So it’s official now?”

“Yeah,” Noir_Angel said, three minutes later, “I guess it is.”

“I mean, no offense, but given your posts over the past few years not exactly surprising. Still, congrats, girl. Who all have you told so far?”

“So far? Just you.”

“Shit, I’m the first?”

“Yes,” Noir_Angel said, and then, five minutes later, continued, “is that alright with you?”

“Yeah,” Soft9282008 replied, eight seconds after, “just taking a moment to think it over, feel it out. Thanks, I guess, Angel.”

“And thank you too, Soft.”

***

Max was not a stranger to the homeless, she thought. She had lived her whole life in one crumby apartment after another, before Blackwell, at least, moving from school to school and place to place, wherever her parents could find work. And everywhere she had lived she had seen them, and occasionally given them a few bucks. But they were always removed from her. They lived out there, and she lived inside, with her photos, and her movies, and her online friends, lost in her own isolated world, living inside her own head. It was different to have them right there in front of her, to eat the same food that they ate, and to talk to them, face to face. It should not have been a new experience to her, she felt, but it still was, and she did not know what to make of it.

“How’s the chili?”

She looked up from the concrete embankment she had been sitting on. Overhead the bridge carrying the interstate rumbled, and whined, filling the incandescent glow of the night with a soft lullaby. Under her feet and in front of her the river flowed out towards the sea, reflecting the lights of downtown. Behind her back Warren and Kate talked to the other volunteers in what seemed to her like low whispers, and in her lap was an empty paper bowl scraped free of chili. And looking down at her, her face barely illuminated by the faint light of a cigarette, was the blue-haired punk.

“Uh, fine,” Max said, shifting awkwardly.

“Good, I spent all day lifting that,” the punk said, exhaling a cloud of smoke, and, after a moment, continuing. “Jesus, I’m not some fucking fasc, you don’t have to be so hella scared of me.”

“Sorry,” Max said, looking away, her heart beating in her ears.

“You don’t have to apologize for that!” The blue-haired girl snapped, before catching herself. “I just came over here to make sure none of the guys gave you any trouble. Frank, for one, I know, is a little rough around the edges.”

“No,” Max said, looking out at the shimmering water, “I’m fine. He was nice. It was fine.”

“Good. Did he say anything about me? Him and I haven’t always seen eye to eye about everything.”

“Told me that ‘she’s a bit of a,’ well, yeah,” Max said, wishing she could just sink into the concrete. “He talked about you, I guess.”

“They.”

“What?”

“Listen up, chilidog,” the punk said, her voice dropping slightly, “’cause you only get one warning. You don’t know me well enough for she. They fucking them. After all, gender is hella trash.”

Max opened her mouth to say something stupid, and closed it again sharply, before speaking.

“Right, sorry.”

“Stop fucking apologizing. Hella annoying. That was the warning, and me playing nice, a’ight? I’m not mad at you, just being civil. Though I can be bitchy to some of the guys sometimes.”

“Yeah, Kate said that,” Max said, the words, and the self-loathing behind them slipping between her teeth, out over the river.

“Sorry, Kate said what?”

“That you don’t like guys,” Max said, closing her eyes softly, her mouth filing with bile and her own self-pity.

“Kate’s right,” Chloe said, her voice unreadable. “I do not like men. But I’m talking to you right now, so maybe don’t always listen to Kate Marsh. She’s good people, for as much as Blackwell people can be good people, but she’s still a Christian, and still a little boogie, some offense intended.

“Yeah.”

“Is there a reason you’re sitting over here all by yourself? I think the rest of us are packing up and heading out soon.”

“Warren’s having car trouble.”

“Heh, yeah, that checks out. Nerd in chief doesn’t know shit about cars.”

“I guess.”

Max’s words trailed off. She should have stayed home, she thought, miserably. She should have gone back to her dorm room and gone to sleep hungry. If only because the way the punk standing over her felt. They loomed, whether or not they meant to, and they seemed to radiate hostility. Look at me, their battle-jacket said, I’m not scared of you. And look at me, their tank top said, I am confident in my own body. And look at me, their pronouns said, I don’t even care about gender, and unlike you I am not afraid to be myself. I am everything you will never be. The night was deep, and dark, and Max felt herself shrinking into her own chest, wishing that Warren could jump start his stupid car already.

“So you gonna say anything?”

“I,” Max began, trying to swallow her own words, “what?”

“Anything! I come over here to make sure you’re alright because you’ve been a quiet nerd all evening, and you act like a deer in the headlights. Have you not seen a dyke before? Are you okay, riverwatcher? Breathing alright?”

Max felt herself standing on some sort of instinct, rather than planning to do it deliberately. Her muscles were not under her own control, as she took a step back, away from Chloe, and the halo of smoke surrounding them. They were glaring at her, Max knew. She could feel it. They were mad, and she had fucked up yet again, and she did not know how to make it right. Her mouth was dry, and she struggled to move her tongue.

“I…”

“Maximum impact!” Warren called from across the gravel lot, as she heard the sound of his car coughing and sputtering to life, “we are back in business! Gotta get back for those sweet, sweet early classes tomorrow!”

“I have to go,” Max muttered, as she turned, threw the paper bowl in a trash can, and took a step towards the car.

“Wait, Max,” Chloe said, and something in the tone of their voice froze Max in place, rooted to the gravel.

“Yeah?”

“You got a last name?”

“Caulfield.”

“I’m Price. Chloe Price. Be seeing you around at the next distribution, maybe, Caulfield.”

Max did not turn around to look at the blue-haired punk, as she walked away, back to Warren and Kate waiting in their car. She did not look at the rest of the people leaving the gravel lot. She stayed silent as they rode back through the silent city streets, and her two fellow students talked about who had and had not been there. She stayed quiet until, just as they pulled onto the university campus, Kate turned around and spoke to her.

“You okay, Max? You’ve been really quiet. Quieter than usual, even. Did Frank scare you? He’s a little rough around the edges, and I think might be a low-level weed dealer, but he’s a got a good heart.”

“No,” Max muttered, looking at her own hands, “it wasn’t him.”

“Ahh,” Warren said, tapping his head knowingly, as he looked at her in his rearview mirror, “Chloe right? She scares me too sometimes.”

“They,” Max said automatically.

“She,” Kate corrected, a new edge entering her voice, and reminding Max that she did in fact wear a cross around her neck.

“They told me to use they and them,” Max said, wishing that she could just bite her own tongue and keep quiet, as she probably ruined whatever friendship she had with Kate, and any chance of it with Warren.

“Wait what?” Warren said. “I don’t follow.”

“Max,” Kate said, her tone gentle, “I don’t mean to correct you. I, uh, get it. I think. What you’re saying, and, like, sure. A topic for another time. But I’ve been working at these events with Chloe since the start of the semester. When she walked up to me the first day she stared me down and said something like: ‘I’m Chloe, she, her, and…’ well, I don’t really want to repeat the rest of what she said, but you get the idea.”

“But they said,” Max began weakly, stopping, before starting again hesitantly, “I don’t understand.”

“That’s Chloe Price, for you,” Warren said with a laugh, “I get along with just about everyone there, even Frank, but she’s got to be her own thing, I guess. Nothing about her comes easy, and you’re probably just better off forgetting her. She doesn’t even come to the distributions all the time. Not nearly as much as me or Kate.”

“Just for once,” Kate said gently, reaching an arm around, and lightly touching Max’s, just for a moment, “I think Warren’s right. Chloe’s kinda hard to get along with, and a, well, let’s call her a complicated person. Don’t worry too much about her. Although, speaking of all this, Max, can we expect to see you for our next distribution?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure, maybe,” Max muttered half-heartedly, looking out the window, and thinking about Chloe, trying to understand their exchange, even as he stomach settled, full for once. “I’ll be there, if I’m not working. I guess.”

“Always glad to have you,” Kate said, smiling at her. “Isn’t he a good guy, Warren? I told you he would be interested.”

“Yeah, good dude,” Warren said, his adolescent smile feeling like a stab to Max’s heart, as she knew how he was already seeing her, “you and me should hang out some time, and watch some movies I’ve gotten with totally legal means. What do you think?”

“Ooh,” Kate said excitedly, “that would be fun. What do you think, Max? Two handsome young men to keep me company?”

Max wanted to scream. She tried to form the words in her head. I am not who you think I am, she wanted to tell them. I am Maxine Caulfield, and I only exist to go to work, class, to eat, study photography, and sleep. I am just in my own head, and online, lost in my own world. I don’t belong with you, or the punks, or with people who are confident in their own gender. I only came today because I was hungry, and I barely belong on the same planet as people like Chloe. You are both wrong, and I am not a man or a boy and I don’t know how much longer I can take this.

“Yeah,” Max muttered, “I can do that.”

“Radical!” Warren said. “I wonder if I could get that Brooke girl in on this plan too. She’s nice, although a little nerdy for me.”

“Says you,” Kate laughed, oblivious to Max wanting to curl into a ball of misery in the back seat. “Ah, here we are, back at the dorms. Thanks for the ride, Warren, and see you soon. Are you coming Max?”

“Yeah,” Max said, lost in her own world, as she opened the door, “sure.”

***

“Hey,” Noir_Angel said, “are you still up?”

“Yup,” Soft9282008 replied, a minute later. “’Sup?”

“Uh, do you have spoons?”

“I’m not sure. What are spoons in this context?”

“Oh, like, can you emotionally deal with some of my garbage brain thoughts?” Noir_Angel asked, after retyping the sentence.

“Sure, go for it.”

“Do you ever doubt yourself? Like, do you ever think that you might be wrong, somehow? That it’s all in your head?”

“All the time,” Soft9282008 said, after six minutes of silence. “Yeah, it sucks. But I don’t know anyone who doesn’t doubt something about themselves at least some of the time. Even cis people, I assume. Even the straights. Sometimes life is just about sucking it up, and living with our doubts, I guess. Why is this on your mind?”

“I just think I am really doubting myself right now,” Noir_Angel said, after a minute. “Like, it’s been about a week since I realized, right? Since our first little talk? And it still just doesn’t even feel real.”

“I mean, you did change your bio.”

“Sure, but, like, even online you’re kinda the only person I talk to about these things. And that’s not even getting into real life. My school is, or was, I guess, crap, I know, and my high-school probably won’t be any better. But my parents are super kind and supportive and accepting. I don’t think they’d do anything other than love and help me. And I’m still terrified of telling them.”

“I don’t blame you, Angel. Do you have anyone else in your life you can talk to about it? Friends? Other family?”

There was a pause, before Noir_Angel replied.

“I’m an only kid, and, like, I don’t know if you have figured it out yet but I’ve never been really good at social interactions. I mean, we’ve been mutuals on here for years and only just started talking for real recently. I’m even worse in real life. I just live too much in my own head, in my own little world. I don’t really talk to anyone else. Sorry, I know that’s way too much pressure to put on you.”

“Hey, Angel, how old are you?”

“Early teens.”

“Bet, I’m older than you,” Soft9282008 said, before continuing in another message, “sorry, I get a little cocky sometimes. The point is that I am here for you. But even more importantly the point is that you don’t need to be scared. You have so, so much more time to go, and grow, and develop. I bet high-school is going to be great for you, and college even better. You’re gonna be such a confident girl, I just know it.”

“I hope you’re right, Soft.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Developments! As for how often this will update? No clue, let's find out. Thanks to Rainboq for all the help, and I how you all enjoy reading!


	3. There Can Be No Peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for: interpersonal violence, internalized transphobia, misgendering.

“Soft?” Noir_Angel asked, early in the morning.

“Yeah, that’s me, Angel.” The reply said, two minutes later. “Been what, nearly a month since we last talked? About pirates? What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you had come out to your parents, yet.”

“Just mom,” Soft9282008 replied, ten minutes later. “Dad is, well, my dad isn’t in the picture. And not yet, no. I was planning on telling my mom but she just started seeing this new jerk boyfriend and I’m waiting for them to break up. What about you?”

“No,” Noir_Angel said, three minutes later.

“I thought you said you were going to tell them soon?”

“Yeah, but then high-school has just started, and we moved again. It’s been, yeah, I guess I just don’t know how to say those words to them.”

“Fair.”

There was an eight minute pause.

“Do you ever get dysphoria?” Noir_Angel asked.

“Yeah, sometimes, of course, but I handle it, you know.”

“Oh.”

“Why?”

There was a four minute break in their conversation.

“My dysphoria is really, really bad tonight. It’s keeping me from sleeping it’s so bad, so instead I’m just laying on my bed and talking to you. And I am scared it is just going to get worse from here.”

“Oh, Angel, I am so, so sorry. Come here, I know you can’t feel it, but this is me sending you a hug right now.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course.”

“Hey, Soft?”

“Yeah, Angel?”

“Thank you for being there when I need you.”

“Anytime and always.”

***

Max liked Saturdays.

The fog rolled across the valley beneath her, hiding downtown from view. But through the pre-dawn cloud cover she could still see the skyscrapers emerging. They were beautiful, she thought, but inhuman. Under them people were starving, as new penthouses climbed ever higher into the clear, cold, blue sky above.

She sipped her coffee.

It was cold out. The sun would not be breaking the horizon for another half hour, at least, and Blackwell was on a hill. On one hand it gave her an unrivaled view of the city, spread out beneath her like some sort of alien panorama. But on the other it meant that the wind whipped over her cruelly, seeming to slice through her double-layered hoodies. She shivered, and pulled a zipper up.

At least the coffee was warm.

She had skipped her breakfast, that day. She had been paid last Friday, and had not even needed to rely on Kate or Warren taking her downtown, this week. But still, it could never hurt to skip a meal every now and again, to save money, she thought. She would eat lunch, in a few hours anyway, and until then she had the coffee to keep her moving.

A lone runner passed by, but did not glance over at her, sitting on the bench.

Almost everyone at Blackwell, all the staff and students, were still asleep. They would be asleep for a long time, yet, for the most part, experience had shown. They would be tired from parties, or whatever else it was that they did on Fridays, and some Thursdays too. Whatever it was that normal students did. But Max had to work on the weekends, and that meant that soon she would have to be scrubbing down bathrooms yet again. Being a custodian was thankless work, but a paycheck was a paycheck. But for now, at least, she could take a moment to just breathe.

Her dysphoria was horrible today. She had not known that when she had first woken up. But she had realized quickly, when she saw her face in the mirror. It had been a few months since she had started estrogen, on a low dose, over the summer before going away to college. It was not a miracle, she told herself, over and over and over again, and she had waited a very long time to start. But still, she had thought that she would have seen something more. Instead it was only herself staring back at her each and every morning. No one else, no girl, was ever in the mirror.

She drank the rest of her coffee, and threw the paper cup into a nearby recycling bin, before standing, and stretching. Her shift was about to start, and she could not always sit here, staring out at the city, and thinking about the pain in her own gut. She had bathrooms to clean, if she wanted to eat, and go to this college, and learn how to be a photographer.

Maybe someday she would even be able to take a picture of herself she could stand looking at without tearing it up.

She felt her skin crawl, as she talked to her boss, and got the keys. Son, he called her, and bro. He laughed easily, with her and the other two kids. It was not the fault of Mr. Taylor, or Samuel, as he liked to be called. He was strange, maybe, but Max still liked him. But no one knew she was anything other than a boy. No one would ever know, she could not help thinking. It was all she would ever be.

She was assigned to clean one of the academic buildings, that morning, which was a good thing. It was technically open, right now, with professors sometimes doing office hours, but this early no one would be in it. No one would be there, if, for example, she later broken down crying. It would be easy.

The first thing she always did was to walk down the long hallways, looking for trash. It was strange, seeing such a big, and normally busy, building, so empty. It was almost ghostly. This was a place that was meant to be lived in, and here she was in it alone, the same as she would be alone forever, she thought, before she stopped the thought short in her head. There was no trash in the hallway.

Next she scanned the bulletin boards, looking for old flyers for events that had since passed. There was the normal everyday dross. Invitations to chess clubs, someone looking for a lost laptop, and the usual Blackwell garbage. There were even the omnipresent sports flyers, and posters for the Vortex Club, whoever or whatever they were. Max took a few of the old ones down, and then found the thing she was looking for, hiding behind newer, better printed, professionally made posters.

Max’s first weekend working as a custodian for Blackwell, cleaning this very building, she had been surprised by the face she had seen all over the bulletin boards. She was pretty, had been Max’s first thought, before she had caught herself. Missing, all the posters, hundreds of them, said. Rachel Amber, they said, and, silently, Max had thought, they said: I meant something to someone. I was here, even if I am missing now.

But that was nearly two months ago. The fall semester was winding down, and with it so had the energy of whoever had been putting these flyers up, Max thought. The school had taken most of them down, and, over the weeks, the rest were ripped off, or covered over with other posters. Max found one of them, now, and positioned it where everyone could best see it. You are pretty, unlike me, she wanted to say. Or you were, at least. Whoever was putting these up might have run out of energy, but don’t worry, I still remember you.

The next step was the worse, no matter how many times she did it, or how loudly she called out, standing in the doorway, that she was going to clean it, trying to separate herself from the very action she was performing. She used the men’s room at Blackwell. She had nothing she could not easily hide under hoodies, and she knew how she looked. But even on this, her Saturday, her weekend, she could not avoid the wretched place, she thought, as she entered to clean it.

It smelled. That was the first thing she thought, each and every time she dragged her mop bucket inside. And it was filthy, too. Not dirty, not exactly, since she was the one keeping it clean, but a wreck. Men left so many things in here, from half-eaten sandwiches to condoms. They did not care about where they lived, or who it was that was maintaining their life and their spaces, and Max hated them for it. But no matter what she hated about them, their smell, their garbage, or their urinals, eventually that criticism would come back around to land on her own head.

Because that was what she loathed the most about the men’s room, she thought. That was what she hated about it, and why her eyes pricked, and her breath quickened. Because it reminded her of herself. Because no matter what she did, eventually, she would always find herself back here, where she belonged.

Max was a fast worker. She knew that. This job was called unskilled labor, and her paycheck showed that, but she was still damn good at her job. She moved on to the women’s room, cleaning it quickly, quietly, and professionally, trying not to think about where she was, or how she would never, ever be welcome here. She nearly made it all the way through without a breakdown when she saw the tampon.

It was such a small thing, but, for whatever reason, it was enough. It broke something inside of her that had been building since she had gone downtown with Kate and Warren. She felt the tears, as she pulled herself into the last stall, and then pulled the mop bucket in after her. Then she sat on the toilet and cried.

She cried because she was hungry. She cried because the cumulative effect of the coffee coursing through her tired veins, and the frayed neurons of her brain misfiring made her chemically imbalanced. She cried because she was sleep deprived, tired, and tired of looking at herself in the mirror and seeing a strange boy. She cried for the things her own anxieties had kept her from doing, and the confidence she would never have.

She did not know how long she cried. It was probably only a few minutes. But it felt far, far longer.

The sound of the door opening was what interrupted Max’s tears. She nearly called out that the bathroom was being cleaned, but even as her mouth was forming the words she heard an unfamiliar, but distinctly male voice, speak to itself.

“It’s cool, Nathan, don’t stress,” the voice said. “You’re okay, just count to three. Don’t be scared, you own this school. If I wanted I could blow it up. You’re the boss.”

“What,” Max began with a whisper, but caught herself, as she saw the shadow moving on the other side of the stall door, by the bathroom sinks.

She put her hand over her mouth, and pulled her feet up, off the floor, instead.

“So what do you want?” The male voice asked, as the door opened again.

“I hope you aren’t completely ignorant of infosec and checked the perimeter,” a new, strangely familiar, voice, replied.

Max flinched, as the first of the bathroom stalls was flung open. And then another, and another.

“I’ve got nothing for you,” the male voice said, and a figure paused, just outside of the stall where Max was hiding, and turned on the other figure.

“Little bougie kid like you? Little fucking rich kid acting you know what the hell you’re doing? Wrong, you got hella cash.”

“That’s my family, not me!”

“Old fucking wealth,” the second, confident voice said, “it’s all the same, handed down over and over again, and hoarded up until you need to buy a politician. I bet your rich ass family would help me out if I went to them and told them you’ve been pumping drugs to the kids around here. Or better yet I can tell everyone that Nathan Prescott is a punk ass bootlicker who talks to himself in the bathroom!”

“You don’t know who the fuck I am or who you’re messing around with!” The male voice yelled, suddenly.

“You brought a gun onto a college campus?” The second voice hissed, with a new, fearful tone creeping into it. “Are you an idiot? That’s fucking felonies, probably. Just put the gun down and walk away.”

“Don’t ever tell me what to do,” the male voice said, as it took a step towards the other figure, both their shadows visible under the stall door. “I am so sick of people trying to control me!”

Max was not sure what happened. She was not brave. Perhaps she did not care about herself, or she slipped, or it was just fate. But she knew that for a moment it felt like she was feeling static, or something spiraling out and away from her. And then she was in motion, and opening the stall door.

She took in the sight in mere fractions of a second. There was a boy, or a man, rather, standing, holding a gun in his hand, and behind him was some blue-haired figure, their face hidden by his. His eyes moved, fixing on Max, and for a second the gun moved too, as if he was about to shoot.

And then the other figure moved, pulling a knife out of somewhere, and stabbing the boy, Nathan, in the arm.


	4. So Long As Hunger and Want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, keeping a good update schedule going! Although it might be a bit longer before the next one.
> 
> CW for interpersonal violence and misgendering.

“I hate this day,” Noir_Angel said, late on a Thursday afternoon

“More school problems? Hard to focus and concentrate? Or is this a dysphoria day? Or another I wish I could find the guts to tell my parents that I’m actually a girl day?” Soft9282008 said two minutes later.

“None of the above, we’re just waiting for a paycheck and I’m hungry.”

“Oh, damn, I’m sorry. I mean, my mom isn’t rich but she provides and we have my dad’s life insurance, so, like, I haven’t been there, but that has to suck.”

“Yeah, it absolutely does suck, Soft.”

“And it’s not fair either,” Soft922008 replied, after three minutes. “I don’t understand how in a country so full of shitty rich men, someone as kind and deserving as you can go hungry. But I am sending hugs, and someday, if I can, I’ll try to change things for you.”

***

The blue-haired figure ducked down, spat out a half-choked off curse, and sprinted out the door almost before Max could process what she had just seen, or even get a good look at their face. Nathan Prescott, whoever he was, was screaming at the top of his lungs, alone with her in the women’s restroom. His gun lay on the floor where he had dropped it when he had been stabbed.

For some reason, some corporate, instinctual part of Max’s brain went back to her job training. To work as a custodian she had to have mandatory class on how to handle blood, like the blood dripping from the boy’s arm out onto the tile floor. She also had to have active shooter training, because this was modern America. But she was not cleaning up the blood, nor responding to a gunman, so neither of them had any answers for her, and her mind went blank. She wanted to run out the door, and sprint down the hallway away from what she had just seen, but the kid with the knife in his arm, and a gun at his feet, stood between her and the door, and she was suddenly acutely aware of how small she was, how little she had eaten, and how weak she felt. So she just stood there, rooted to the floor, unsure of what to do.

He ended up solving the problem for her, as he screamed at her.

“Bitch, call 911.”

She jolted out of her stupor, and fumbled with her phone. It was such a simple thing to call 911, and yet she had never done it. It seemed to take her forever, as the boy slowly slumped down onto the floor, with his back up against the wall, holding his right arm with his left hand, as the man on the other end of the line picked up, and started asking her questions.

“Yeah, he just got stabbed,” she said, feeling like her voice was shaking along with her body, “in his upper right arm, just below the shoulder. Yeah, the knife is still in the wound, but he is bleeding a lot.”

“Do you know how to make a tourniquet?” The man on the other end of the line said, his voice steady, and calm, as if no matter what happened it would be alright.

“No, no, no,” Max said, feeling her empty stomach churn and her heart racing, “I don’t even go outside much, I can’t do this, I can’t do this!”

“Sir,” the man said, his voice kind even as it stabbed at Max, “help is on the way, and will be there soon, but right now I need your help to save a life. Take a deep breath, I am here to walk you through it, now bend down and see if you could get a belt or strip of cloth above the wound on his arm.”

“I,” Max began, and hesitated, as she bent down next to the brown-haired boy, where he was grimacing in pain, “I don’t think so, it’s pretty close to his shoulder, and under his shirt. It’s a mess.”

“Okay. Then what you are going to do is get a piece of cloth or a shirt or something soft and wrap it around the wound and keep as much pressure on it as you can. Do you have something that can do that with?”

“I have, uh,” Max said, fumbling with the phone as she took off her hoodie, “I have a jacket.”

“Very good, now do just what I said, and don’t worry, I’m right here with you, you can do this.”

“Nice to meet you,” the boy said, with a strange, distant, and yet almost manic look in his eyes, “although I should tell you that this isn’t my normal way to pick up chicks. Nathan Prescott.”

“I, uh, I’m Max Caulfield,” Max said, feeling like she was going to be sick all over him, despite the void in her stomach.

“Max,” he said with a grunt, as he closed his eyes, “cute name.”

The help the man on the other end of the line had promised arrived mere moments later, in the form of one of the campus security guards, and then another. They shooed Max away from Nathan, and out into the hallway, where she sat, speckled with blood, as more and more people rushed into the women’s room. It was probably only minutes, but it almost felt like an eternity until some man with a mustache was talking to her. His voice sounded distant, and detached from reality..

“Sorry, I missed it,” she said, after he had already been talking for a while, “who are you again?”

“David Madsen,” he grunted, as EMTs moved the boy out of the bathroom on a stretcher, apparently unconscious, “I’m the head of campus security. And I’m trying to get some answers about what went on here.”

“Excuse me, David,” a cop said, lightly touching the mustached man on the shoulder, as Max looked up and watched them, like they were millions of miles away, “we’ll take it from here.”

“This happened on my campus, it concerns me,” the first man protested.

“I know, but you know just whose kid that was in there,” the cop said, his tone dropping just slightly, “we can handle it from here. Now, Max is it? Can you come with me? We’d like to ask you a couple questions about what happened.”

***

The Office of Campus Security was not a jail, the cop had felt the need to inform her, when she had arrived here an hour ago. He had been very insistent on letting her know that. There were a few chairs, a coffee table with a few magazines on it, and a window through which Max could see her dorm. But no campus security was there, and a cop stood in the doorway, idly looking at his phone.

“So,” the first cop she had talked to, said, as he walked into the small, boring room, a cup of coffee and a donut in his hand, “I just received some good news from the hospital. Prescott Junior is in fine condition. And all thanks to you, I might add. I also took the liberty of getting you a coffee and a donut, I remember I didn’t eat enough when I was your age.”

“Thanks,” Max muttered, as she took them, and wolfed into the donut, “I’m starving.”

“I know, right?” The cop laughed easily, as he pulled a chair across from her, on the other side of the table, and sat down. “It’s Max Caulfield, right?”

“Yeah, why?” Max asked, too focused on the sensation of the donut filling the void in her stomach to focus on anything else.

“I looked up your records, Max. Scholarship kid, working two jobs, trying to study photography. I don’t know how you do it, but I admire you. Your boss, too, Samuel? I think his name was? He had nothing but good things to say about you and your industrious attitude. I understand that you were cleaning the women’s room this morning when you saved Prescott Junior from being assaulted, is that right?”

“Sure, I guess,” Max said, as she gulped down the coffee.

“And you didn’t get a good look at the other figure, I think you told one of my fellow law enforcement officers?”

“No, I didn’t,” Max said truthfully.

“Well then, Max,” the cop said, like she was his best friend, “I don’t really need to bother you much more. You aren’t in any trouble, by the way, let me just say that first. I know that when people see a police officer they can sometimes get ideas about who we are, what we do, and why we’re messing around in people’s business, but you don’t need to worry. You did good today son. All I need for you to do is sign this statement I prepared, it’s a pretty boring part of our job, but it’s just describing what you saw, and then you can be on your way, and get what I imagine to be is a well-deserved lunch.”

As he spoke he pulled a small slip of paper, and a pen, from a pocket, and put them both down on the table in front of Max. For a moment something, maybe the way he had addressed her, pricked at her anxieties. She tried to look over the small writing in front of her, as it described an assault with a deadly weapon in the restroom. But despite the caffeine, and the donut, what she was most aware of was the void in her stomach. It growled, and gnawed at her, even as the adrenaline high of what she had seen faded from her fried mind. Almost without realizing what she was doing she took the pen, and was signing the piece of paper.

“Well then, Max,” the cop said with a huge smile, as he stood, taking the paper away from her, “I don’t think we need you anymore, so why don’t you head on out of here. And hey, take care of yourself, son.”

She nodded, vaguely, and walked towards the exit. The cop on the cellphone did not look up, as he stepped out of her way. She opened the door, her head fogged and distant, trying to process what had happened this day, or what was still happening, or how she could deal with the fact that she had lost a hoodie, and had flecks of human blood on her clothes. But as she stepped out into the hallway on the other side of the doorway she heard a man say her name.

“Max!” The voice said, pleasant, and composed, “Give me one second! I would like to talk to you. Yes, I’ll be there when I can, but this is more important. Yes, I understand that, but Nathan’s stable, and he can wait a few hours.”

She tried to focus. There was a white man in a sharp business suit, talking into his phone. As she watched, he hung up, and turned, and his face changed from anger to happiness as he smiled mechanically at her.

“Who are you?”

“Prescott Senior. I understand that you’re the boy who was in that bathroom when my son was assaulted?”

“I guess,” Max muttered, too tired and hungry to protest or fight his words in even the slightest way.

“Well, that must have been very traumatic for you,” he said, as he reached into his suit and pulled out a wallet, “I truly hope that you can forget about all of this unpleasantness and move on with your life. A young man with so much ahead of him like yourself, or my son for that matter, deserves at least that much.”

As he spoke he pulled something green out of his wallet and held it out towards her. Money, Max thought, as she hesitated, and then took it from his hand.

“What’s this for?”

“For saving Nathan’s life, for the first part. For the second part because you look like you could use it. And lastly and most importantly to just want to help you forget this horrible day. Forget and move on with your life.”

“Thanks, I guess?” Max said vaguely, feeling the way her stomach yawned open, craving food, and the way her own brain ached, crashing from coffee and adrenaline.

“Good,” he said, patting her on the shoulder as he turned and walked down the hall. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go get to the hospital. Buy yourself something nice, kid. Maybe a dinner. It looks like you could use some more meat on your bones.”

She watched as he left her, already back on his phone, yelling about some sort of business, his artificial smile only a distant memory. For a second she tried to focus on him, and think about what his life would be like, in his fancy suits, with people to yell at. He probably had never been hungry a single day in his life.

Her stomach stabbed her, suddenly, and brought her back to reality. She needed to eat. She had two jars of peanut butter back in her dorm room, but the thought of walking all the way back there daunted her. Could she afford to buy some fast food? She had the money now, but what about in the future? Did she have to worry about how much she was going to get paid for this day? Would Samuel fire her?

She felt the things in her hand, and dragged her mind away from her anxieties, as she looked down at what she was holding. And then she started shaking uncontrollably. In her hand were five crisp, clean, new, hundred dollar bills.


	5. Are Found Among Millions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victoria makes her appearance!
> 
> CW for misgendering.

"Hey, are you busy right now?" Said the message Max sent.

"Hey, Max!" Kate replied only thirty seconds later. "I am really, really glad you're okay. I didn't hear from you all this weekend. Did you hear about that poor boy who got stabbed in the bathroom? Are you alright? I heard security is super tight all over campus looking for whoever it was that assaulted him."

"Yeah, yeah, sorry I was so out of it, Saturday, and yesterday. Had to call off work, even, as a custodian. But I think I'm doing better now."

"I am so happy to hear that! So what's going on?"

"There's something I might want to talk to you about? If you have the time? I'm working right now but my shift is about to be done any minute."

"Working in the Writing Center?"

"Yeah, that's my weekday job, after classes."

"I'm already headed that way, be there soon."

"Good, see you soon," Max said, before continuing two minutes later. "Wait why were you already on your way here?"

"Hang on, be there in a minute, and we can talk."

***

"What's going on there, with you face buried in your phone? Zoning out? Still stuck in the retro zone, sad boy?"

Max looked up from her phone, at her sometimes coworker, sometimes tormentor, Victoria Chase. She rarely actually worked, or helped the students who came to the writing center looking for help with their papers. Max suspect she was only using this job for building her experience slightly, but even for her, and her rich girl attitude, she seemed especially irritable, or rather, irritated, today. Had been since she came in a few hours before.

"I'm just working," Max mumbled noncommittally. 

"Lame," Victoria said, throwing a wadded up ball of paper into a trashcan, on the other side of the room, "it's late in the afternoon, and everyone's out getting in their partying before finals hit. Although you wouldn't know anything about that, would you, dweeb boy? Neither of us are working here at all, right now. All we're doing is sitting here on our asses waiting for the day to end. Well, I'm waiting for the next semester, and better classes, and a career after this stupid college. While you are just waiting for new clothes, I guess."

"Oh, hey, which classes are you going to be taking?"

Max looked up from her phone, and her work computer, to the figure that stood in the door to the Writing Center. It was Kate, looking at Victoria, with a strange sort of distant glaze to her expression. They were friends, maybe, Max and Kate, but she had not known the Christian girl long. Still, something about the way she was standing there, fumbling with her hands, struck Max as strange, and unusual. She was nervous, maybe.

"The one with Professor Jefferson, of course," Victoria said, as Max internally felt her heart sink, "what other freshman classes would I look forward to taking? He's the best and most famous professor here at this school, with so, so many connections in the art world. And who are you?"

"Oh, uh," Kate stammered, looking down at her feet, "I thought you might've remembered me. We've met before."

"We have?"

"Yeah! At orientation? Move in day?"

"Oh," Victoria sniffed, "I don't remember."

"You don't?"

"Well, in fairness," Victoria huffed, "my friend and fellow Vortex Club member just got stabbed this weekend by some hooligan and is still in the hospital and I'm a little distracted, okay?"

"Wait, Nathan Prescott?" Max said, the words slipping out of her mouth inadvertently, before she could stop them.

"Yes," Victoria replied, looking at her strangely. "How do you know him? Do you even know what the Vortex Club is, sad boy? I wouldn't have suspected it."

"I just met him around campus," Max mumbled, looking down, "and no, I don't know what that is."

"Right, anyway," Victoria said with a sniff, as she turned back to face Kate, "I don't remember ever meeting you."

"It's okay!" Kate said, her voice sounding forced and a little hesitant. "I'm Kate Marsh."

She held out her hand, like she was going to shake it. Victoria looked at it, like she didn't even know what to do with it, then looked back up, and sniffed.

"Victoria Chase. Are you here for help on a class paper or something?"

"What? Oh, no, I, uh," Kate said, her face growing red, as she seemed to look for words or inspiration from the space directly over her head, "I came over here to see Max, right Max? We talked about the thing."

"I mean," Max said, hesitantly, "you did just text me, but weren't you..."

"Exactly!" Kate said hurriedly, glaring at her suddenly. "We need to talk. About the thing. That thing. Right?"

"Sure?"

"Yeah! The thing."

"Exactly! That thing."

"Fine," Victoria sighed, "go ahead and talk about whatever stupid little thing you two weirdos are working on. We're closing the Writing Center down now, anyway. End of the day."

"Rad!" Kate said hurriedly. "Let's go deal with the thing, right Max?"

"Right, uh, the thing. On my way."

Kate nodded at Max appreciatively, as she turned off her computer, and picked up her backpack, before following the girl with the cross necklace out into the hallway.

"So what did you want to tell me?" Kate asked, once they were out in the hallway.

"This is a little noisy," Max said nervously, looking at the students passing by them in the hallway. "And also there are a lot of people around to talk about something more private."

"Well, we can't exactly both go into the women's room to vent about our boyfriends." Kate said cheerily, before seeing the expression on Max's face. "Woah, Max, it was just a joke, are you alright? You look like you just saw a ghost I didn't mean to say something to hurt you."

"It's fine," Max said, trying to ignore the barb in her heart.

"Still, I am sorry."

"Can we go to one of the classrooms?" Max replied, ignoring the apology. "A lot of them should be empty this late in the afternoon."

"Of course, but are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine let's just, let's go."

Max and Kate ducked into an empty classroom, a small one, with chairs and desk ringed around a whiteboard. Kate looked up at Max, and smiled softly. Max sighed, and braced herself for any reaction that might happen from the girl, as she tried to find the words to say what she had been rehearsing over and over again in her ind..

"Are you alright Max? You look sick, and also really pale. Have you been eating okay? And what happened this weekend? Did I say something wrong? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," Max said vaguely, still trying to gear herself up for the conversation, "it was a lot, that's all. The weekend, that is, at least. Why were you already on your way up here even before I texted you?"

"No reason, and we don't have to change the topic," Kate said, blushing suddenly, "I was just already in the area. What did you want to talk about?"

"Right," Max said, shaking her head, "you're still doing the...the whatever it is that you all are doing downtown, right?"

"Trying to live up to Christian idea of love for once and prove we aren't all crap? Engaging in direct action? Building solidarity? Performing a corporal works of charity?"

"Uh, sure, yeah. That."

"Yep," Kate said, her smile widening, "we are still going down there as much as we can afford to. There are a lot of houseless people down there, downtown, and they deserve food. And shelter too, and meds, and healthcare, and a whole lot more too, but I can't do as much about that. Why? Do you want to come down there again? We'd love to have you and we can always use another pair of hands."

"How do you get the food for all those people? Serving them so many different nights? That must cost a lot."

"I mean," Kate said, "there is more than enough food on the Earth for everyone to be full. Sometimes we pay for things, sometimes it's donated, and sometimes Chloe or one of her friends brings it and we don't ask too many questions about where it came from. Although she's been kinda silent recently, and we haven't seen her in awhile. Warren thinks it's normal for her, but I still worry."

"Why?" Max found herself asking, unsure of why.

"Well, she's had a hard life, and while I don't know too, too much about her or her past, I do know that she's a little bit rough around the edges. But that's all besides the point, right? Why are we standing in here right now? What did you need to tell me?"

"Oh, right," Max said, as she fumbled in the pockets of her hoodie, "can you use this for the food?"

"Max," Kate said, as she gently took the offered objects, "this is four-hundred dollars."

"I know," Max said, her voice shaking just a hair, as she let go of the money, "and I figure you, and the people you feed, can use it more than me. They need it more than me."

"But, Max," Kate asked softly, "I know you don't always eat. Or you don't always eat as much as you should. You could use this."

"I've already budgeted out the rest of the year, staying here over the winter break, and all the way until summer when I go back home," Max said hurriedly, "I'll be fine. And also I kept a hundred bucks for myself."

"But why? Why give this away?"

"Because other people need it more than me."

Kate hesitated, biting her lip and looking awkward, before asking the next question.

"I think I should at least ask this, just to do my due diligence, but where did you get five hundred dollars, Max?"

Kate was looking at her, and her face was soft. But, there, underneath, Max thought she saw something suspicious. Max coughed, and replied.

"When Chloe brings in stuff you don't ask them where they get it, right? That's all I'm asking for, Kate. I got it fine and all above-board and I really, really don't want to talk about it. It's been a hellish weekend."

"Well, then," Kate said with another of her small smiles, "if this weekend was hellish for you, then you should know that right now if you told me that you were a literally angel, I would believe you. This is going to help a lot of people, Max. Would it be okay if I gave you a hug?"

"Oh, yeah, sure."

Kate smiled, and stepped in, to wrap Max in her arms. She smelled soft, somehow, Max thought, and for a moment, as the slightly shorter girl hugged her, she was happy. And then she let go, and smiled, and spoke to Max.

"You're a good boy, Max. And like a brother to me, I hope it's okay to say. I'm glad I met you."

"Yeah," Max said, biting down the pain that shot through her, "yeah, thank you."

"I hope you'll come down to the food distribution downtown again soon, and maybe you can see some of the good this money can do?"

"Sure," Max replied vaguely.

"Then good, see you soon."

Kate waved, and walked out, leaving Max alone and hurting in the classroom.

***

"So I've been doing some more reading," Soft9282008 said.

"What about?" Noir_Angel replied a minute later.

"A lot of different stuff. All related, though, I guess. Food scarcity, food deserts, unemployment, rent spiking, debt, payday loans, and more. Pretty much since we had that conversation a few weeks ago about you and your family being food, I guess the word is insecure? Since then I've been digging into things. And it just makes no damn sense to me. We have more than enough food for everyone on this planet, and in this country. We have more than enough money to go around. And yet we've got people starving in the streets. I don't understand it."

"Yeah, I guess that's just the way the world works."

"It's just not fair. I don't understand. If people have food, or money, or homes, or whatever, that they don't need, then why don't they just give it to people who need it more than them?"

"Some people don't see it that way," Noir_Angel said, after about two minutes. "Some people want to keep their money, I guess."

"I, just, like, we're not rich, and we could be doing more, but we still give more to people than billionaires do. Like percentage wise. Do only poor people look after other poor people? I don't fucking know anymore and I'm so, so mad."

"Yeah, well, not everyone is as good a person as you, Soft."

There was a ten minute pause, before Soft9282008 replied.

"Wait, you think I'm a good person?"

"I do."

"Then...I guess I'll try to be better. And I think you're a good person too, Angel."


	6. Of the Working People

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look who it is!
> 
> CW for misgendering.

"Well?" Soft9282008 asked.

"Well what?"

"Have you?"

"Have I what?"

"Have you come out yet?"

Noir_Angel waited six minutes before replying.

"No."

"Come on, girl, you know that you can't put this off forever. How long has it been now? Nearly a year? You can't keep this a secret forever. You can't keep yourself and who you are a secret. You know you need to tell your parents. I mean, they seem nice, right? Everything you've every told me about them makes them sound nice, at least, and like they're pretty close to you. I don't think they'll do anything shitty."

"And what about you then?"

"And what about me?"

"You know what I'm talking about. Big talk but you still haven't told your mom that you're a girl, anymore than I've told my parents."

"Listen," Soft92282008 said, thirteen minutes later, "I know you're all wrapped up in your own things, and your own anxieties, not coming out to your parents and all, but I'm still dealing with my mom and her piece of dick fiance. I'll come out when I'm ready."

"Sorry, sorry," Noir_Angel said, five minutes later. "You're right. I shouldn't have said that. Are you mad at me? Please don't be mad at me. I don't want to lose you."

"I'm not mad, Angel, I'm just tired, that's all. I don't want to lose you either."

"Angel and Soft forever?"

"Partners in crime."

"Sounds good."

***

"It's probably not even that hard to get into the school databases," Warren was saying, as they drove slowly through the drifting, scattered snowflakes falling from the night sky, "for as much of an endowment as Blackwell has, you'd think that they'd have some better security. Not that I've ever looked into it, of course."

"Of course," Kate said easily, and lightly. "No way you would have thought about something like that."

Max was hardly paying attention to their conversation, in the front seat. She was sitting in the back, her stomach rumbling, as she looked out at the snow. It was not too cold, just cold enough for snow, apparently, and it was not heavy. But it was pretty, in a strange way, drifting down in little soft spirals.

"Nope!" Warren said, replying to Kate. "By the way, Max, you've been awfully quiet back there. I know you're probably hungry right now, but are you okay? How was your Thanksgiving break?"

"Hey!" Kate snapped, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. "I told you not to ask him about the break."

"Oh, right, sorry," Warren said sheepishly, "for whatever it is worth, I am sorry about your parents."

"My parents?" Max asked, as she shook her head, and pulled her attention away from the snow outside. "What about them?"

"I mean, it's okay, I know it has to be rough. How long ago was it?"

"How long ago was what?" Max asked, confused.

"Their passing," Kate said softly, as she turned around and patted Max on. "It's okay, you don't have to talk about it right now, and Warren is rude for even bringing it up."

"My parents are alive, though," Max said, raising an eyebrow. "They're fine."

"Wait, really?" Warren asked, as they pulled into the gravel lot, under the bridge. "Then why didn't you go home?"

"I...couldn't afford to," Max said, the words slipping out her mouth before she could stop them. "We couldn't, I mean."

"Oh, sorry, right. Well, I am glad you are going to get to see them soon over the winter break."

"I'm not going," Max mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," Max said, a little louder, as she stepped out of the car. "Let's go feed some people."

"You're an idiot, Warren," Max heard Kate say, softly, with kindness in her voice, as she got out of the car.

There were more people, now. Max had been reading about food kitchens, and actions like this, more, since she had been here last, and she knew that there was always more demand at this time of year. She had been hungry too, over the holidays more than once, growing up. But still, even with all this knowledge she found herself staring at the men and women lining up in front of the folding tables, where the punks were preparing food. Suddenly she heard a loud voice behind her.

“Shit, Cashfield! Hella good to see you here again!”

Max flinched away as the hand came down heavily on her back, thumping on her double-layered hoodies. She reeled, and looked back around, to see Chloe Price, the same punk from before, smiling down at her with a huge grin. They were the same dirty mess as last time, patches sewn onto their jacket, and a beanie pulled low over their blue-hair, but they seemed happier than before, like they were laughing at a joke that only they understood. And also they were strangely familiar in a way that Max could not place. She had only met them once before, right?

“Uh, good to see you too?”

“Hey, Chloe,” Kate said, as she and Warren walked by, off toward the tables.

“Hey Blackwells, and get fucked, Warren!” Chloe called, before adding, a little softer. “You’re okay, Marsh. So, Max, to what do we owe the pleasure of your appearance here today?”

“Umm,” Max said, looking down at her own feet, and wishing that the gravel would swallow her up. “I was hungry? Like, seriously? I haven't eaten all day and I'd like to before I sleep."

“Wait, shit, are you for real?” Chloe said, bending down lower and trying to catch her eye.

“Uh, yeah, cereal.”

“Shit, Caulfield,” Chloe said, their voice softer still, low, and a little raspy, and their breath stinking with cigarette smoke, “you are for real. I pegged you for another rich kid, and then when I was keeping low for a few weeks I heard about what you gave Kate. Thought you were just being rich-people generous, though. But instead you gave away that much, when you already are hungry? Why the fuck would you do that?”

“I don’t know,” Max said, still looking at her feet, “you do it too, don’t you?”

“I steal it, Blackwell,” Chloe laughed easily. "I don't just give it away."

“And you’ll admit it that easily?” Max asked, shocked, finally looking up into her eyes.

“Why the hell not?” Chloe said, standing back to their full height. “Urban foraging, if you want to call it. Seizing the ends of production, if not the means. It’s not like some giant corporation is going to miss it. And besides, its hella fun too. But you, you just gave away four hundred bucks. And I want to know why.”

"It seemed like the right thing to do," Max shrugged, still staring up at them.

"But why?"

"I don't know, they're the homeless, and the poor, and all that," Max said, gesticulating wildly. "Isn't that what you're supposed to do, right? Give to the needy? I'm sure that Kate could talk about the Christian reason to do it."

Chloe looked at her for a moment, and then fished in their jacket, the one with all the patches, and pulled out a lighter and a cigarette. Light flickered for a moment, illuminating their grimy face, and they took a huge drag, all while staring down at Max, before they replied.

"Yeah, she probably would say something like that. You're not all shit, Maxanthimum," they said, finally, "and if you wanna help people and you occasionally go hungry yourself you're my kind of people. To paraphrase the immortal words of Laura Jane Grace, as far as I'm concerned, you've always got a floor to sleep on. And as John Darnielle said it, it's the least that we can do, to make our welcome clear."

"Wait, what?" Max asked, hopelessly confused.

"I'm saying that you're fine, Caulfield, and if you need something call me."

"What?" Max asked again.

Chloe sighed, and then fished in another of their other many pockets, finally pulling out a stained piece of paper.

"There, that's my number," Chloe said, as they handed it over. "If you need anything text me, or call me. Try to get some end to end encrypted app if you're going to send me anything incriminating. Got it?"

"Uh, yeah," Max said, as she took it, and looked at it, for a moment, unsure what she was supposed to do with it. "No, wait, not really."

"Don't worry, you'll catch up. I'll be a good bad influence on you, if I have anything to do with it. Now, lets get going to feed some people," Chloe said, taking a step forward, before suddenly halting, and turning back around. "Wait, I nearly forgot, one other thing. They aren't something separate from you, Max."

"What?" Max asked, hating how little she understood about the conversation she was in. "Who aren't?"

"Like, the way you talked about the people we feed here, it's like you think that they're something different from you or me. A different class, or something. And I'm not sure but I'm pretty sure neither of us are bougie fucking capitalists, so, like, you've almost certainly got way more in common with them, with me, then you ever will with a millionaire or a millionaire's kid up at Blackwell. It's not us and them, get it? It's all just us."

"Uh, sure."

Chloe took another drag of their cigarette, and stared at her. There was something strange about their gaze. Max was wearing four layers, but she still felt exposed, like this weird, smelly punk was seeing something else. She wanted to hunch over, to hide whatever of her chest had started growing. She wanted to pull her hood up, and run away. But instead she just stood there, frozen under Chloe's gaze, until, suddenly, they grinned, almost shark-like.

"Wait a second, I recognize you now."

"You do?" Max asked, looking at them, and feeling that same feeling of familiarity in her chest.

"Of course," Chloe said, taking a step forward, closing the distance between them and her. "You saved my life, didn't you? In the bathroom? You distracted that prick. I owe you."

"Wait, that was you?" Max asked, as she put the pieces of together. "Holy shit you stabbed him. You stabbed Nathan Prescott."

"In self defense," Chloe said, their smile fading, "you aren't going to be a snitch are you? Right?"

Max swallowed, and tried to process it. Chloe had been their. They had met Nathan, for some reason, been threatened by him, and stabbed him. Chloe remembered the cops, but it all seemed like haze. But she could not be mad at Chloe, no matter what they had done, or how the cops had been looking for them. She knew her answer.

"No, of course not."

The grin on the punk's face came back in a moment, as they spoke.

"You got some promise, Max. Be seeing you around girl, and if you need anything let me know, okay?"

And with that Chloe turned around, and walked off towards the tables where the food was being prepared, leaving Max alone. She waited a second, looking down at her hands. On it was the number that Chloe had left her. It was small, and greasy, but some how it was concrete, and real, in a way few things were. She shoved it deep into her pocket, where it would be safe, and took a deep breathe, trying to get her thoughts right.

She did not understand the punk. She did not understand the way they acted, or what they had done, or what the spoke about. But, as she walked towards the punks giving out the food she felt curious, for the first time in a long time. She wanted to know more about Chloe Price.


	7. And The Few Have

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our plot happens! Which in the short term is bad news for Max.
> 
> CW for hunger, cold, and misgendering.

"Hey, Max!"

"Hey, what's up, Kate?" Max texted back, a few minutes later.

"Just got home safely! My dad says hello! I just wanted to make sure you were warm, well-fed, and safe and had a place to stay tonight," Kate replied, ten minutes later.

"Sure, why wouldn't I be?" Max texted, just as she was finishing cleaning a bathroom.

"Have you checked your student email?"

"Yes," Max lied, not wanting to explain to Kate why she had no energy to do anything after work and finals.

"Ah, okay, good. So you've got some place to go?"

"Yup."

"Good, take care of yourself Max!"

"You too, Kate."

"And have a merry Christmas."

"I'll try."

***

Max trudged through the wintery sludge, the melting snow soaking through the thin soles of her old shoes and up into her socks. Her double-layered hoodies were not enough to fight off the cold, and the cold was not enough to freeze the salt-melted slurry under her feet. She was cold and wet and miserable. She was tired, and her bones ached.

The incandescent glow of the campus lights reflected off the concrete path under her feet, and also off the grey sky low above her, like some sort of dirty, golden, and grimy halo over all of Blackwell. It was quiet, here, on the darkest and shortest day of the year. The campus was mostly abandoned, and emptied out, with all the rich students long gone home, all across the country, and beyond. The parking lots were vacant, except for a few stray campus security vehicles. No one else was walking in her eye-sight. Just a few scattered flakes of snow, thick, and heavy, settled down on her head.

After her last she as a custodian, just a few minutes earlier, Samuel had given her a five dollar bill. He took it out of his desk, in the office, when they were done cleaning up the last lingering traces of finals and student parties. But she had seen him get it out of his own wallet before then, eight hours earlier, at the start of her shift. Yet still he gave it to her with a smile, said Blackwell was giving her a bonus, and then slapped her on the shoulder and wished her a happy holidays. And that was all. He locked up and turned off the lights on her first semester at Blackwell. All that was left for her was the long, lonely walk back to her quiet dorm, which was looming up above her, strange dark and inhospitable.

She just wanted to rest, and sleep, and eat bad ramen and peanut butter, and get through this time alone. She had expected, hunger, and depression, and dysphoria. But she had not expected to find the head of campus security, who she had met after the incident of the bathroom, David Madsen himself, standing outside the entrance.

"You again," he said with a grunt, rubbing his hand under his grimy mustache. "Should have figured that you'd be trouble, boy."

"I'm walking home," Max said, more angry than she would have thought she would be.

"Into what?"

"Into the dorm!" Max said, her feet growing ever number underneath her, as she locked eyes with him. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"Why aren't you going home?" He asked angrily.

"Some people can't," she countered, as something snapped inside her. "That's a thing you know. Now I am tired of working all day, so can I please, please just go in there? Or are you going to keep harassing students?"

"Can't," he said, crossing his arms.

"I beg your pardon."

"Did you check your email? We need to do emergency utilities work, and they're all out. Legally we can't let students in there."

"Then where the fuck am I supposed to go?" Max asked, a new emotion hot burning inside her, in the place of the thing that had just broken.

"I don't know. But you can't go inside."

She felt like fighting him, and then she felt like crying. Her feet were frozen, and aching, and he was staring down at her, with his stupid face. Then she thought about what he must saw, the small boy, in the hoodies, on the verge of tears. And she turned, and walked away, out into the dark of the night.

She found the first bench she could, wiped some snow from it, sat down, and cried into her hands, as her body tried to rid itself of the adrenaline and cortisol. She cried because she was cold, and hungry, and nothing made sense. Maybe it was the estrogen, too. Some people online had told her that that might happen. She cried because the universe was unfair, as was life. She cried because the hot fire she had felt died, and she only felt broken.

And then her phone buzzed, and she pulled it out of her pocket. It too was dying, but a text from her dad flashed onto the screen.

"Love you, Maxine. Check your card balance, we got you special something for tonight. Call us soon! We miss our daughter. Love, Dad."

She started crying again, thinking of them, still caring for her, after everything they had been through together. Still loving her, their daughter, from so far away. Her eyes flicked down, past Kate, and Samuel, and her other minimal contacts, to the name she had added to her list a few weeks before. Almost without realizing it, as the battery icon flashed red in the corner of her screen, she sent the message.

"Hey, uh, I don't have a place to sleep tonight :/"

"On my way," Chloe sent back, a minute later, "and if you're gonna be texting me no emoji."

"At Blackwell," she managed to send, just as her phone died for good.

She looked at herself, reflected in the black surface of the screen, as snow settled on it, and melted into big droplets, distorting her image. That was her face. She had not started HRT early enough, the thought went, pushing its way into her head. She had been to scared to come out of the closet when Soft had pushed her too and it was all her fault. Was that hair on her face? Was her face oily after all the work this day? Why was the world the way it was and why had she reached out to a punk she barely knew who she knew had stabbed someone, even if it was in self defense? What was she even doing?

The pickup slid to a halt on the road in front of her a shockingly short amount of time later.

"Max?" Chloe shouted, as they pushed open the passenger door.

"Chloe?" Max asked, as she stood up.

"Sorry it took so long," the punk shouted, beckoning them forward. "Get your punk ass in here!"

She hesitated just for a moment. Blackwell was behind her, and the pickup in front of her. Her feet were cold, and her stomach ached. And then Chloe looked at her and grinned, and she found herself walking forward, up, into the passenger seat of the rusted, stinking car.

"Fuck, this day never ends," she muttered under her breath, automatically.

"Oh," the punk said, with a sarcastic smile, "and thank you, Chloe. Heat doesn't work, sorry about that. You okay? Need food? Place to crash? Some knees kicked in? Feeling unsafe?"

"Wait, why?" Max said, looking over at them finally.

"Why what?"

"Why are you helping me?"

They were driving away from Blackwell, out into the city. Max didn't recognize the streets they were passing, but she was too tired to care. She was focused on the blue-haired driver, and their grin. It was like they knew something she did not."

"'Cause you're Max Caulfield."

"Yeah, and? You don't know me."

"What if I do? And nothing," Chloe said, tapping her lightly with their hand, "so don't give me that sad face. You helped me out in the bathroom and I seriously owe you one. And even if I weren't hella in your debt you'd still deserve food and shelter and all that shit. I've had people be kind to me, so I got to take in people, even art school hipsters like you."

"I'm not," Max said, feeling something ball up inside her, filling the broken, ragged edges where she had snapped earlier, "I'm not like that."

"Yeah, yeah," Chloe said huffily, "we've talked about that shit before, no need to get into it again. I get it, you ain't bougie. You just need a place to stay, and you helped me out in the bathroom, and you've helped out downtown before, and you're human. That's enough for me to help. So what do you need?"

"I can't go back to my family," Max sniffed, looking out at the grimy world outside, "and I can't go back to my dorm either. I need someplace to stay for at least a few days. I can pay for food? Maybe some more?"

"Yeah, I know that. Family is shit. What's wrong at Blackhell?"

"I'm not sure but the head of security, David Madsen, didn't want me around."

"Ah," Chloe said, with a strange change to their tone, as they pulled into a driveway, "say no more. It might be shit, but it's our shit, and you're welcome to stay as long as you need."

It was a run down house, with a small front yard, overgrown with weeds, and two other houses on each side. Chloe lead Max up the pathway, and unlocked door. It was dark, and quiet inside, and stank of weed, cigarettes, alcohol, and other smells Max could not identify. The lights were out, and Chloe made no effort to turn any on, so Max pulled her shoes off, and carefully put them on the pile with the rest of them, as Chloe ducked into a side room. A moment later they popped back out, and threw something through the dark. On instinct Max caught it.

"Poptarts?"

"Food is food," Chloe said through their own mouthful. "I'll try to have something better for you tomorrow."

"I mean," Max said hesitantly, "you don't have to do that."

"You're staying over the holiday, don't worry about it," Chloe said, easily dismissing her. "And don't try to get out of it either, I previously mentioned I owe you and also you deserve it."

"Oh, uh, thank you. Where's the couch."

"Down here," Chloe countered, stepping into her path, in the hallway, "but I'm sleeping on it. You're going up those stairs, into the room on the right and crashing on my bed."

"What? I can't do that."

"Like hell you can't, go get your skinny ass up there, and lay down, you'll be asleep in minutes. Just don't go in the other rooms up there, I think my roomies might be asleep."

Max opened her mouth to protest, but even in the dark the punk stared at her. She closed her mouth again, as she tore into the poptarts. Her feet ached, and her back was sore from carrying her backpack. And then she was walking up the stairs, almost automatically.

"Goodnight," she felt herself muttering.

"Oh, hey, also," Chloe called after her, really loud for someone worried about waking up their housemates, "happy solstice, hope you move on out of the dark."

Max grunted dully in response, as she staggered up the stairs, and eventually, after more effort than it should have taken, reached the top. She pushed open the door to the right, just as she heard Chloe walked away.

It stank in Chloe's room, and was dark, but there was a bed there, filthy, and dirty, yes, but soft. And after the hell of this day, this week, the finals, this semester, college, and life in general, Max was asleep almost before she hit the mattress. She pulled of her soaked socks, looked up dimly at the graffiti on the walls, and then slipped into oblivion.


	8. All The Good Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For once a fluffy chapter! For the most part. Enjoy the softness of a holiday breakfast.
> 
> CW for internalized transphobia.

"Hey," Noir_Angel, said about two days after they had last talked, "I finally did it. I came out to my parents. Merry Christmas to me, I guess."

"Hey, congrats girl!" Soft9282008 said, only a minute later. "You're fucking amazing Angel."

"I never, ever could have done it without you talking to me all this time, preparing me, calming me, and being my friend and companion through these past two years."

"More than two years, if I remember correctly. And hey, don't you dare sell yourself short, you're pretty hella cool. How did they both take it?"

"Some questions, yeah," Noir_Angel replied, after a moment of hesitation. "But all in all they were pretty nice. My dad is already calling me by my name. Hopefully I can start HRT sometime before I go to college, although with the move coming up it might take a while."

"You will, don't worry. Also...I've known you for a pretty long time, Angel, so I hope this okay to ask, but what name did you pick?"

"Just a feminine version of my dead name. I figure I still will go by the nickname I've been going by pretty much my entire life. I like it, after all. What about you?"

There was a two hour gap in their conversation before Soft9282008 replied.

"Shit, sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. I just came out to mine, inspired by you."

"Wait, really? Why? And how? And are you okay?"

"Yeah," Soft9282008 said, fifteen minutes later, "I'm packing my shit and am heading out. My mom's crying and her bullshit fiancee is an asshole. That's all."

"Wait, what? Really?" Noir_Angel replied, about to ask where she lived, and if she needed a place to stay.

"Yeah, yeah, moving in with my new girlfriend," Soft9282008 replied, an hour later. "Talk soon, okay?"

"Oh, okay, be safe. I love you."

Max refreshed the page, and checked the internet connection, five days later. There was still no message. Soft9282008 was still not online. She had come out to her first, and only come out to her parents because of her. And she had been in love with her. She realized that. She had been crushing on a girl she had never met, or seen, and who was now gone. She curled up on her bed and cried, alone in her room.

***

Max woke up with a start, her stomach rumbling, but her body warm, under a couple of dirty blankets, and still wrapped in her hoodies. It took her a second to remember what had happened last night, as she looked at the piles of clothes on the floor around her, or the words scrawled on the walls. Think like a man, one said, and another, I can't sleep. And there on the wall, keeping out the light, was a giant rainbow flag.

She was in Chloe's room. Immediately she felt guilty, and somehow dirty. She was in their room, invading it, just like all those transphobic assholes online thought. She was an invader. And she did not belong here at all. Her skin crawled, and she wanted to cry. But she bit her lip, and rolled out of bed, desperately needing to pee. Spiro was a hell of a drug, after all.

The hallway outside smelled of something delicious, and warm. Her stomach rumbled, as she looked for a bathroom. A door opposite her opened, and a boy with wispy facial hair, and a thin, reedy voice who stank of weed stepped out and looked at her, for a moment, like his brain was also still waking up, before he smiled.

"Aww, sick, I'm glad to see that Chloe's finally moving on. My name's Justin, what's yours, girl?"

"Max," Max said, automatically, before realizing what he had just said to her, "wait, what did you just say?"

"Oh, shit, sorry," he said throwing his hands up apologetically. "'Cause of who Chloe is normally into I leapt to conclusions, but I get that gender is a fuck. Know that personally. Sorry for misgendering you."

"Wait, no," Max said, catching a word she was more used to hearing online than in person, "you didn't. I just...it surprised me, is all."

"Oh, rad," he said, as he adjusted the towel around his waist, and Max noticed the two small scars on his chest. "Did you need the bathroom?"

"Um, right, yes," Max said, awkwardly stepping past him.

The bathroom was small, and cluttered. When she was done relieving herself, she looked in the mirror, and frowned at the face looking back at her. Tampons were stuffed in the overflowing trash can, and it was just another reminder of what people like Chloe, and others had that she would never have. She looked foul, in her hoodies, covered in the grime of sleep, and lack of showering. She had started HRT less than a year ago, at a low dose, after waiting so long, and not pushing for it, and it showed, right? Look at that face. Was that facial hair? She wanted to smash the mirror, but this was not her house. She left, just as someone called her name from downstairs.

"Max!" Chloe's voice shouted, loud and confident. "You ready up there? Breakfast is ready."

Max wanted to retreat back to the room, where her backpack was waiting, but her stomach growled, and made her turn, and walk down the stairs, following the smell. It was an open lower floor, covered in garbage, and clutter, but warm, and somehow cozy, despite the sense of grime on everything. In a little living room Justin sat on a table, in a hoodie, talking to a girl Max did not know, with glasses and long dark hair, and also dressed in a hoodie. But Max's attention was drawn to the kitchen, where Chloe was messing with pots and pans, in shorts, and a tank top. They looked so confident, moving about, tall, and lanky, like they knew the exact limits of their body, and were happy with it. As she looked, they looked back up, and grinned.

"Super Max," she grinned, "welcome, welcome, welcome to our squat. That's Justin, I think you two just met, he's cool. That's Stella, our token cishet, but she's okay despite that. Our rent payer is gone right now, at work, I think, but I'll introduce you to her later. And this is me. I'm Chloe, but you already knew that."

"They're a bit of an asshole, but don't let that scare you, they're a secret softie," Justin called from the other room, as Max tried to take it all in.

"Breakfast is almost ready," Chloe said, turning back around. "I've got stuff for our two vegans here, but for you and me I'm making omelettes. I saw the way you tore into the hotdogs downtown, after all. Have a seat, I'll be there in a minute."

Max opened her mouth to speak, but her tongue was dry, so she simply nodded, and padded over in her bare feet to the table, where she sat. Justin and Stella were talking about someone who they hadn't heard from recently, and Max stared straight in front of her, trying to ignore them. The table was cluttered, full of trash and random items. There were medicine bottles there, and for a moment Max wanted to look at them, but she stopped herself.

"So, Max," Stella said, her voice a little nasal, as she turned to the girl sitting next to her, "pronouns?"

"What?" Max asked, snapping out of her haze.

"What are your pronouns? I use she and her, Justin uses he, and Chloe uses they, although they are a complicated, confusing mess, in all honesty. What about you?"

"I, uh," Max said, hesitating, thinking of the exchange she had had upstairs with Justin, "I was fine with what Justin said."

"I called you girl," Justin chuckled, "but I can introduce you to plenty of super cis gay guys who do that too. No pressure, any pronouns are good in this house, so no need to be so nervous, girl."

Max opened her mouth. She thought about her parents, so supportive, even if they had had questions at first. She had not bothered coming out to anyone in any of the high-schools. They had told her to come out at college, but she hadn't. The first person she had met at Blackwell had been Kate, with her cross, and she had been too scared. And the rest of the meetings had snowballed, as Kate kept introducing her with the wrong pronouns. But the Christian girl had not meant to, right? And Justin had leapt to the right conclusion. He was trans too, right? He should be understand? And Chloe was trans, after all.

For some reason Max thought of Soft, who she had known years ago, and who she had first come out to. She wished she was here. She had wished she had told her how she felt. But it was better later than never, right?

"She and her," Max said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Cool," Justin said casually, looking back to Stella.

"I fucking knew it!" Chloe shouted from the kitchen, as they started carrying plates over to the table. "I've known enough eggs in my day to recognize the dysphoria hoodie and the ragged still growing out hair. Sorry about all those assholes misgendering you."

Max looked up at them, as a plate carrying a huge, generously apportioned omelette, was placed in front of her. They were grinning widely, with their rough, crooked teeth, and their dazzlingly blue eyes. They looked so happy. Max should have been scared, right? She should have been more nervous. This was the first and only time she had come out in real like, other than to her parents and the doctors. She should have felt some more intense emotion. But instead she just simply felt happy. She felt safe, and welcomed, for the first time in a very, very long time. She smiled, as she dug into the food in front of her.

"Holy shit," she muttered, a moment later, after the first bite, "I love this. This is delicious."

"Thanks," Chloe said, as they sat down opposite Max, and tore into their own breakfast, "an ex taught me. So, tell me, Max, you're stuck with us, until you can get back into your dorm. Any idea how long that's going to be?"

"No clue," Max said, through her food, "hopefully soon."

"Well, until whenever that is, you're welcome to stay with us. When I got kicked out I need to stay here for awhile, and we all know how it is."

"Bullshit, is what it is," Stella said passionately.

"Thanks," Max replied, hesitating, with a bite of food halfway to her lips. "But, like, I can't pay."

"No need," Justin said, waving his hand, "she's not here right now, but our rent and food is pretty much taken care of by the one sellout in the house."

"But what about clothes, and stuff?"

"I've got some upstairs that should fit you," Chloe said, eyeing Max in a way that made her feel hot, and scratchy. "Also the from the ex."

"Right," Max said, trying to find some other excuse, and then suddenly feeling a spike of anxiety shoot through her. "But shit, what about my meds? They're stuck in the dorm."

"What do you need?" Justin asked casually. "Edibles? Sativa? Ritalin?"

"If it's something more specific we can probably get it from Frank," Stella added.

"No, not anything like that," Max said, feeling miserable, as she looked at her lap.

It should have been easy. Chloe had already figured it out, right? They all knew. She had been on it for months. And yet she still found herself having difficulty saying the words.

"What type of hormones are you on?" Chloe asked easily.

"I mean, not testosterone, like you or Justin," Max found herself saying, and immediately regretting, as both of them started laughing.

"Oh, girl," Justin said, lightly touching her shoulder, "you've got Chloe figured all wrong."

"Here you go," Chloe added, as they picked up a pill bottle from the table, and handed it to Max, "help yourself, and make up the difference to me when you get back to your dorm."

Max looked at the object in her hand. It was a pill bottle full of estrogen tablets. She recognized it without even having to read the label. But still, as her hand started shaking, she found herself looking at the label all the same. The name on the label said it was for Chloe Price.


	9. Of Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More timely fluff. I really was motivated to get these out before they were past prime, (and also wanted a break between finishing my novel draft and editing it) so it might be longer before the next update, but I hope you enjoy!
> 
> CW: mentions of death and transphobia.

"Hey, Soft," Noir_Angel posted, almost exactly a year after her last message, "I know you aren't going to respond to this, and that this will be the last thing I ever type here. You haven't been online on this account in a year, so why would you respond now? Maybe you're dead, maybe you just hate me, or maybe something else entirely is going on, I don't know. But wherever you are, I hope you are okay. I hope you are safe, and warm. It's Christmas, today, and I was thinking of you. I think I'm going to be able to go to Blackwell, next year. I know that probably means nothing to you, but it means the world to me. I've always wanted to go there, maybe study photography with Mark Jefferson. My parents had to sacrifice so much to send me, and somehow, despite that, and the moves, I'm starting hormones soon. It took me awhile, I know. Maybe I didn't push hard enough. But I still am starting. And yet despite it all, despite all these changes, I still keep thinking of you. Just you. So I know I will probably never love you, or cuddle you, or hold you, or hug you, or kiss you, or spend the holidays with you, or thank you, but I am still writing this now, knowing you will never read it. I love you, Soft, and I think I always will. Max Caulfield."

***

Brooke got home early that afternoon. Max recognized her, as she washed dishes, for the punks who were apparently feeding andhousing her. She still felt grimy, and dirty, and had not showered or changed yet, but she felt the need to help and the dishes were dirty. And suddenly there was Brooke Scott, who she recognized from Blackwell, walking through the door and stomping snow off her boots.

"Do I know you?" Brooke asked, looking at her. "Blackwell? You hang around with Warren right?"

"That's Max!" Chloe shouted, from the other room, where he was playing video games with Justin. "She's really cool if a little shy and nerdy, and she doesn't have a place to stay over the holidays, so it's cool if she stays here, right?"

"Is she staying in your room?" Brooke asked, as Max looked away from her.

"Yeah," Chloe said, their voice closer, and more cheerful, as they walked up behind Max, into the kitchen. "She is."

"So," Brooke said, and even looking down at her own pruning hands, buried in the sink, Max heard the smile in her voice, " you finally found a replacement for Rachel, eh Chloe?"

"And I am sleeping down on the couch," Chloe said, forcefully.

"Hey, don't let me get in your two's way," Brooke said, as she walked out of the room. "Hey, Justin, hey, Stella."

"That's who pays your rent?" Max hissed, as she turned around and looked at Chloe, sitting on the counter. "Brooke Scott? That's who?"

"Yeah," Chloe said, easily, as they played with a fidget toy that had been sitting on the counter. "How do you know her?"

"She goes to Blackwell."

"Yup, she's the one bougie fuck allowed in this house, although she pays rent for a bunch of smelly punks who don't shower enough, and is queer, so she's cool enough. Have you met her before up at Blackhell?"

"We have a," Max said, hesitating, and trying to find the right words to talk about Warren, "friend in common."

"Ah, hella rad."

"Wait," Max said, drying her hands on her filthy jeans, as she did a little mental math, "there's your room, but I only saw one other room. Where, um, where all do you sleep?"

"Oh," Chloe laughed, "is that's what's crawling up your ass and making you look so uncomfortable? Brooke's hella ace, and her and Stella share a room. I think it helps them with some trauma stuff, or something, I don't really pry into it. Justin has a space he made for himself up in the attic. It might just have been an aging family house in the suburbs, with an old swing set in the back, and a garage we hardly use, but it's ours, this place. It's crowded, and smelly, and sometimes someone is thrashing to music which is way, way too hella loud, but after I got kicked out of my old place, and moved in here with my ex, this was the first safe place I ever knew. This is my home, and for some reason this is my family. Not what I would have expected, but this is life. Oh, which reminds me! Hey! Everyone! Are we doing something festive tonight?"

"Have you looked outside?" Justin shouted from the other room. "It's super snowing outside dude. I don't know about you but my holiday plans pretty much began and ended with getting cross faded and playing video games with you and the girls."

"Huh," Brooke asked, still out of sight, as she sat with Justin and Stella in the other room, around the television, "what do you want to do for dinner? Get some Chinese food?"

"I can pay for it," Max said, hurriedly jumping in.

"Fuck no," Chloe laughed, looking steadily at her, "Brooke's got a cushy programming job. And you're a broke-ass art student."

"Photography," Max said automatically, as she fumbled in her hoodie, for her wallet, which had been stuffed in her pocket since yesterday, "and yeah, I am broke, but I have this."

As she spoke she pulled out the single hundred dollar bill that Mr. Prescott had given her, and she had kept. Chloe looked at it, and whistled, long and low.

"Where the fuck did you get that?"

"Mr. Prescott."

"Nathan?" Chloe said angrily, as they leapt off the counter. "That little fuck?"

"No," Max said defensively, "his dad. After, well, after what happened to you in the bathroom he gave me five hundred bucks. I think his idea was to keep me quiet about what actually happened. I gave four hundred to Kate Marsh for her project downtown and kept this for myself. And, like, you're all super nice, and I want to thank you. So, like, let me buy you all dinner. As a Christmas gift, if you want to call it."

"Shit," Chloe said, pulling off their beanie, and showing that their blue hair was shaved on one side. "We don't really celebrate it much. Trauma and all that shit. But, like, I won't say no, at least. Guys? What do you think?"

"Sure," Stella's voice came, from the other room, "why the hell not?"

"Alright, Caulfield," Chloe said, taking a step forward and grinning, in their stupidly confident way, standing there in what was probably just the underwear they had slept in last, "you've got a dinner date. But don't expect many gifts from this lot, although, like, hey, I think I might have a gift for you. Wanna come on upstairs?"

"Uh, sure," Max said, hesitating.

"Great! Follow me!"

Chloe bounded up the stairs, and Max followed behind them, a bit more slowly, up into their room. Chloe was rummaging in their closet when she got their, behind boxes and piles of clothes, cursing, until they finally pulled something out, and held it forward.

"A bra?" Max said, taking a step backward, and trying to suddenly stop being aware that Chloe was clearly not wearing one.

"Yeah," Chloe said, easily, smiling widely. "It was also my ex's so don't worry, I don't need it."

"No, like, sure, but why are you giving it to me?"

"'Cause you're new," Chloe said, lowering their arms and shrugging. "I don't think I've seen you wearing one, not to be weird or creepy or anything, and, like, I know that when I first came out and Rachel got me my first one it meant a lot to me. So why not give it to you?"

"I don't deserve it," Max said, looking away. "Like, you're already letting me stay with you. That's enough."

"Hey, hey," Chloe said, their voice a little softer, as they stepped forward, "what the fuck are you talking about? You saved my goddamn life. I'm not using these clothes. Of course you deserve it. You deserve way, way more. So, like, take them, take this, dig around in there and take whatever you want. You look like you're about her size. She might not have had your style, but you can use them, especially while you're spending the holidays here. And besides, you stink. No offense."

Max froze, and looked down at her feet, suddenly aware of how alone they were in the room. All the clutter was around them, and the light drifted in through the pride flag. But it was still just her, and the punk. The hot punk, with the undercut, who, it looked more and more like she was staying the holidays with. And who was also trans. She swallowed, as she replied, stalling for time.

"Who was she?"

"Who?"

"Your ex."

"Oh, her," Chloe said, letting the bra fall down by their sides. "Rachel Amber."

"Wait, I saw the missing posters for her, at Blackwell," Max said, looking up.

"Yeah, I put those up near the start of your guys' semester," Chloe said, finally looking abashed by something. "I was really missing her, back then. By now, though, nearly a year after she left, I figure I'm moving on. She ghosted me, and moved on herself, and somehow I have to deal with that. Now, are you taking the effing bra or not?"

"I'm sorry, Chloe," Max said, taking a step forward, and putting her hand on their shoulder, "that must have been hard. How long had you two been together?"

"Years," Chloe said, shrugging the hand free, "we met when I was sixteen, nearly seventeen. My mom's then fiancee, now husband, had just kicked me out, after I got super confident and came out to him and her, inspired by some idiot online, and I moved in with Rachel. Way, way too soon, I know, and she was not perfect. But it worked, right? Then she left, end of story, no worries."

"Wait," Max said, as the gears started to slowly turn in her head, "who was the idiot online?"

"What?"

"The idiot, who was she?"

"I don't know, I lost internet access for awhile, and my password, and never tried to get it back. I think she went by Noir Angel, or something."

"And you were Soft," Max said, taking her step backwards, and putting a hand to her mouth. "Chloe, that was me."

The punk stared at her, their mouth slowly falling open. It was the first Christmas, the first holiday, Max had spent alone. Or rather it was the first she had spent not with her family. She was not alone, though. The punks downstairs were ordering food, and everything was up in the air. But somehow, for some reason, Soft was back in her life. Life was inexorably confusing. But, almost without thinking, Max found herself walking forward, and the two of them embracing.

"Shit," Chloe muttered, "I missed you. Welcome back, and nice to meet you for real, Max."

"Yeah," Max said, through her tears of happiness, "you too, Chloe."

***

Max went to sleep that night clean, showered, and shaved, with her stomach full of Chinese food, and her head full of the stories Chloe had told her. They had told her about setting up life on their own, and the things they did around the house, and about meeting Justin, and Stella, and Brooke, although their avoided talking about parents, or Rachel, or Nathan, or their past conversations with Max. They did not talk about anything too serious, really, or too personal. They had talked about politics, and anger, and music, just as Max had talked about Mark Jefferson, and Blackwell, and hunger, and photography. They were back, even just for a little bit, together, and it felt like Max had been saying everything, all the way back from the beginning.

She smiled, as she fell asleep, content in the knowledge that she would be spending winter break here, safe, and happy.

***

End Part One


	10. This is No Simple Reform

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new semester, and new challenges. And Mark Jeffershit.
> 
> CW for misgendering.

Part Two: Address

***

The storm raged outside, lashing out on the city, raining down thunder, lightning, and snow, all mixed together in hellish mix. It was untimely, unseasonable, chaotic, and noisy outside, as Justin slowly got stoned and Stella and Brooke played video games.

“See,” Chloe said, walking up behind Max, with strange, uncharacteristic quiet, for them, “that’s how fucked up and unpredictable life is. Yesterday we were all eating Chinese food and celebrating together, and today the weather turns to this mess. And then, because of it, today we all get trapped inside during a storm.” 

“It is weird, yes,” Max said, pulling Rachel’s flannel close around her, against the chill. “As I look out at that, it makes me feel scared like I’m a little kid again, hiding from the the lightning and thunder.” 

“I like it,” Chloe said defiantly. 

“Why?” 

“It’s, like, a reminder. I don’t know. If you’re at sea looking for a lighthouse, looking for a harbor, looking for shelter you just have to keep going. It’s a reminder to me that I have to keep going.”

"Oh," Max said, looking up at them, and smiling, "I can see that."

*** 

Max started suddenly, her head jerking backwards, and up, wrenching her out of the dream she had been lost in. Or, really, the memory, since she had been dreaming of the holiday, now over, and the time she had spent with Chloe, catching up after years of online conversation, and then more years apart. It had felt so real, even lingering in the synapses of her mind, and it was hard to imagine that she was here, now, back at Blackwell, trying to listen to her one-time childhood idol, a few days into the winter semester. 

“Alfred Hitchcock famously called film little pieces of time,” the smiling, friendly hipster professor said, as he leaned back on a desk, apparently oblivious to Max’s accidental nap, “but he could be talking about photography, as he likely was. These pieces of time can frame us in our glory and our sorrow; from light to shadow; from color to chiaroscuro. Now, can you give me an example of a photographer who perfectly captured the human condition in black and white?” 

“Diane Arbus,” Victoria volunteered, as Kate made moon eyes at her from across the open room, her pencil hovering, frozen in place, over her notebook. 

Max shook her head, and rubbed her eyes. She was desperately trying to stay awake, and take notes, and do everything she was supposed to do. This class was the reason she had dreamed of going to Blackwell, ever since seeing Jefferson’s work, after all, as a little kid. She was lucky to be here, with people as skilled as Kate Marsh, and as rich as Victoria Chase. She was lucky to be taking one of his classes in only her second semester. She, Max Caulfield, was lucky, right? And yet between her two jobs as a custodian and in the cafeteria, which she had started just yesterday, she was exhausted. She drummed her pencil lightly against the desk, and slouched further over, hoping no one would see what she was wearing under her hoodie. Her parents and she had sacrificed so much to send her here, and she could not allow herself to be distracted. 

“There you go, Victoria!” Mark Jefferson said, happiness practically beaming from his face, at what had to be his best student. “And why Arbus?” 

Max already found herself zoning out, and barely paying attention as Jefferson and Victoria went back and forth about tortured expressions and dark corners. She should have been paying more attention. Why wasn’t she? Max knew the answer, though, as much as she tried to ignore it, and pretend she did not. The real answer, not bullshit excuses about her jobs, and food, and lack of sleep, she knew that. She could not focus because she was thinking about that short, precious time with Chloe and the rest, before she came back to Blackwell and back to the closet. Almost without thinking what she was doing, Max found herself reaching into her bag, and pulling out the picture Chloe had taken of themselves. There they were, in their beanie, flipping off the camera. 

“And what’s this, Max,” Jefferson said, suddenly close to Max, and plucking the photo from her hand, “a selfie, as you kids say. Of some sort of...delinquent? If I had to hazard a guess? Perhaps you’d care to share who it is and why you seem so intent on…her, I believe. It’s hard to tell, sometimes.” 

“They’re a friend,” Max muttered, looking down at her hands, just as the clocks hit the hour. 

“I see, a friend. Well, look at that,” Jefferson said, chuckling like he was laughing at his own, tiny, personal joke, as he handed the photo back to Max, “saved by the bell, Max. Alright, everyone, you’re all theoretically adults, you know the drill, the contests and the readings. Make sure you do what you need to do, but I’m not your dad and this is not high school, so no hand holding! Just do your stuff and be ready for our next class.” 

Max shoved the picture of Chloe back into her bag, as deep as it could go, and tried to avoid Victoria’s stare as she stood up, and zipped her hoodie up even tighter. The class was small, and even if they were no longer working together in the writing center Max could not avoid the rich girl, or her gaze. She had originally tried to guess what she was thinking behind her made-up face. And then she had tried what Chloe would have said about Victoria. But Max had given up on both of these endeavors on the second day, and had decided to focus solely on survival.

But today she was not going to be so lucky. She felt, rather than saw, Victoria approach, as the rest of the class packed up, and started moving towards the door, and snow fell outside the windows. 

“So, still totally stuck in the retro zone, sad boy,” Victoria said, grinning. “It’s a shame, I was almost going to ask you what products you’re using to keep yourself looking so fresh, but apparently you’d rather hang with dirty punks than us.” 

“Victoria!” Kate said, interrupting the taller girl, as Max still stared down at her own boots. “I see you’re talking with Max? What’s up?” 

“Oh, right,” Victoria hissed, almost sounding disappointed. “You’re friends with him. I was just asking about how he’s taking care of his skin. But it can wait. See you on Friday, Kate, and don’t be late.” 

Victoria sniffed once, looking up and down, over Max, and then practically stalked out of the room, past Professor Jefferson, who was looking at some papers. 

“Are you alright, Max? I came over to save you from Victoria,” Kate said with her gentle smile, as Max finally looked up. “After all, even angels need angels sometimes.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Max said, vaguely. “She’s just being Victoria, is all.” 

“I know that Victoria can be a bit of a,” Kate began suddenly flushing, and looking away, “not nice, sometimes, but she’s not all bad. She’s just misunderstood, I think, and under a lot of pressure that makes her lash out at people. But she was right about your skin, by the way, you are looking fantastic.” 

“Thanks,” Max replied, slinging her backpack over her shoulder, “but how do you know so much about Victoria Chase?” 

“Oh, right,” Kate said, her face growing even redder, “I actually got her number at the end of last semester, and we’ve been talking over the break about some things. Not much, you know, but enough. Photography, art, and stuff like that. She’s actually inviting me to this party her, like, club is going to be throwing this Friday.” 

Max looked at her, for a moment, and tried to form a new impression of Kate Marsh. Straight girls were confusing, Chloe had said teased Stella, and now Max saw it too. Kate had Victoria’s number. But in what sense? Perhaps, with the dresses, and the cross necklace, Max had misjudged her? She filed it away for later, as she spoke, on automatic pilot. 

“What is this club?” 

“Oh, I think it’s like a club for outsiders and misfits up here at Blackwell,” Kate said excitedly. “They call it the Vortex Club, I think. Not sure why. But I’m just really, really thrilled to have an invitation. Who knows, maybe I’ll try some new things?”

"What things?"

"I don't know," Kate said excitedly. "Party. I've never done that before, and kiss, well, boys, I guess."

"Right," Max said, reaffirming, in her mind, that Kate was in fact straight, "cool."

"Not, like, that you'd know," Kate said, awkwardly, "unless, like, you did. Not that there's anything wrong with...all that, I guess."

"No, I'm not really interested in kissing boys," Max said, truthfully, leaving off the part about how she had not kissed anyone, ever.

"Do you want to go to with me?"

"This Friday?" Max asked, hesitantly, thinking about the texts she had sent to Chloe, and the plans they had thought about making together. "No, I think I am going be doing some other people. I mean things. Things with people. Just chilling. Watching movies, playing video games, normal, normal people things."

"Are you alright, Max?" Kate asked, looking at her with a confused expression.

"Yep. Yep. Totally right. Have fun at the party, Kate," Max said, turning around, and heading towards the door.

"Max!" Professor Jefferson shouted, just as she was about to open the door. "Don't think you can sneak out on me. Come over here, please, you and I need to talk."

Max froze, in place, and pivoted around on her heel. There he was, waiting for her, as, slowly, she felt herself walking towards him. This was what her whole life had been building towards, right? This is what her parents and she had sacrificed for so long to do. Not only was she in his class, but he was about to talk to him personally. About photography, hopefully. Mark Jefferson himself.

"Yes?" She said, as Kate, the last other person in the room, left behind her.

"Max Caulfield," he said, still looking at his papers, "you were falling asleep today."

"Sorry," Max said, flushing, "there's just a lot of stuff going on."

"I don't care, Max," he said, suddenly looking up, and smiling, "or, rather, I do care. I want to work with you to do better at your photography, and I know that you're busy. Life is tough. So, like, I know sometimes you're spending your time letting punks use your equipment, but just know that I'm not a big, scary person. I'm here to help."

"Oh," Max said, rubbing the back of her head, "right, thank you. I guess, I, uh, got kinda nervous instead. About you, that is."

"I know," Jefferson said, smiling down at her, "I sometimes have that impression on young men like yourself, growing out your hair, trying new things, learning their way in the world. But just rest assured, I'm just like you. And I'm here if you need me."

"Right," Max said, looking down at her hands, "I guess I will."

"Good, be seeing you around, Max."

Max nodded, lost in her own head, at the way her idol, the person she admired more than anyone else in the world, the person who she had structured her whole life around studying under, had just misgendered her. It hurt. She should have been more used to it, right? She had spent all of last semester getting told she was that pronoun. And yet, after the break, after her time in that house, it felt different. And it hurt.

And then she looked down at her phone. No outdated messaging, now. Just SMS, unencrypted, but on it she saw a message from Chloe, and she smiled, despite herself, and everything else.


	11. It Really is a Revolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Max and Kate, Max and Chloe.
> 
> CW for misgendering and internalized transphobia.

"So what is it that you do, exactly?" Max asked, late at night, long after the ball had dropped, on the end of the year, on the other side of the country, over in New York City.

"What was that?" Chloe asked, looking over at her, from the other couch, where they sat up, awake, and Brooke and Stella lay asleep, draped across one another. "What I do? Sorry, I don't follow."

"Like, what is it that you do?" Max asked, leaning forward slightly. "Because, like, I work two jobs, and I study. What is it that you do, exactly?"

"Why all that study?" Chloe asked gently, leaning in, as the television flickered gently and quietly illuminating the two of them.

"Because I want to be a photographer!" Max insisted. "I love it."

"Do you take photos?"

"Yes."

"Then congratulations, you already are a photographer. I don't get why you need to talk to who was it, that you were talking about? Mark Jefferson, or whatever. Learn on your own. Intelligentsia is an elite's club, and you don't need it, Max. You're already good how you are, right now."

"But, like," Max said, trying to formulate the frazzled thoughts in her head, "I try, right? I'm trying so hard to make a better life for myself, and follow my dream."

"The American dream?" The punk asked, raising an eye-brow.

"I guess."

"Well," Chloe said, as they stood up, and gently pulled a blanket over their roommates, "I'll tell you what I do, then. I try to take down the American dream. I work at McDonald's, and Burger King, and Walmart, and I dumpster dive, and get fired, and I keep going. I try to organize shit, and get things done. I live here, where Brooke pays the rent, and I cook for people, and I know my neighbors' names, and what they do, and I talk to them. I keep a bag of medical supplies in my closet. I have a gun, and know how to use it, because I want to keep us all safe. Because I don't think people like you should have to have to work two jobs, or go into debt, or have to worry about being hungry or shit like that. I fight the fascists."

"Wait, what?" Max said, pulling back into the couch under her. "Who...who are the fascists? Like, I don't think there are many. Maybe, like, a few, but they're few and far between. Right?"

"Eh, maybe," Chloe said, still grinning, "I don't really do theory. But I'll tell you what, people who keep you poor, people who cover up abuse, people who hide injustice, and people who hate us for being who we are, they're fascists, as far as I'm concerned. And ever since I knew you, talked with you, learned from you, and got kicked out, I've known I've wanted to make the world better. By any means necessary, right?"

"But, why?"

"For the same reason women send text to each other, at dates, and go in groups, and check in on one another so much," Chloe said, the smile fading, as they grew serious, and fixed Max with their blue eyes. "For the same reason people give each other jumps for their cars. For the same reason people shovel each other's sidewalks. After all, it is our duty to love, and protect one another."

***

"Hey, Kate," Max said, after a day of not texting, "your party thing is tonight, right?"

"Yeah, I'm so excited!" Kate had replied, six minutes later.

"You're going with Victoria, right? Could I have her number?"

"Uh, why?"

"Just making sure you're safe."

"Huh, I guess I have been a little sheltered at home. Thank you, Max, for looking out to me."

***

"Hey, Victoria."

"Who's this?"

"It's Max," Max replied.

"Why are you texting me, sad boy?"

"Because, like, you're going out with Kate, and I care about her, and want to protect her. And I thought it was good to know someone who was going with her. Just so I could keep her safe. Cause I...care about her. You don't have to reply to this, just wanted you to know."

"Fine," Victoria replied, almost an hour later.

***

Max said goodbye to her boss in the cafeteria, who waved at her vaguely, and headed towards the exit of the building. She checked her phone, and smiled at the message she saw, as she pushed the doors open in front of her. And then she was walking out to the parking lot, where a beat up old pick up truck was running. It was Friday, and for once, she did not have anything to do. Or rather, she did have things to do. She had to study, and write, and research. She had her books, and her old, beat up laptop in her backpack. Tomorrow was the weekend, and she had to work, once again, as a custodian, for Samuel, and the school itself.

But tonight she was going to forget. She was going to forget about Kate, and Victoria, and worrying about them and whatever party the rest of Blackwell was going to at. She was going to forget about photography assignments, and grades, and bills. She was going to forget about the closet, and hiding estrogen's effects, and more. Tonight she would be safe, in her own place, and she would do her school, and be back tomorrow morning ready to face the day.

"Hey, hippy, get in!" Chloe said with a grin, as they leaned out of their truck, revving the engine a few times.

"I am, I am," Max laughed, as the winter sun glinted off the snow. "Permission to board, Cap'n?"

"Oh, god," Chloe said, with an exaggerated groan, "I forgot about that stupid running gag we had going over the break. When did that start?"

"Some time before the new year," Max said, as she climbed up, and slammed the door behind her, and they pulled away from Blackwell. "If I remember correctly I brought up that one birthday you got a pirate hat, back when we were just internet friends, and the rest got away from us."

"Yeah that did indeed get away from us," Chloe said with a happy sigh.

"So where are we going, Cap'n?"

"One of my lairs. Me and Rachel, you remember, my ex? Used to hang out there."

"Like, uh," Max began, "a party somewhere? Some club, right?"

"God, no, I hate parties," Chloe replied, frustrated. "All of the drinking, drugs, guys hitting on you. Give me a mosh pit any day over that poser shit. Nah, this place is hella better. My home away from hell. You'll love it, I know."

"Looking forward to it already."

The pair of them fell silent, as they pulled off the highway, away from downtown, out on the outskirts of the city. Max looked at the warning signs, as they breezed past them, and felt the warm rumble of a train passing nearby, shaking the earth under her feet, as Chloe slammed on the breaks, and they got out of the truck.

They were in a junkyard, somewhere. Another time it would have been strange to be here, during the summer, maybe, when the ground would be soft, and muddy, and the rusted out cars full of green and growing things. But now, in the middle of January, with snow drifting across it, and all of it frozen in place, and still, save for the rush of the train nearby, all long, metal, and alien, going from somewhere else, to somewhere else, it looked beautiful. Quietly, Max took her camera out of her bag, and snapped a photo, wanting to remember this place.

"You're probably a hella good photographer."

Max looked up, and saw Chloe leaned against the hood of an old car, looking at her. They were smiling, strangely, in a way Max did not understand.

"I'm okay."

"Don't sell yourself short, you're gonna make the world bow down before you someday, just wait. You been hella interested in it since the old internet days. Wish you'd let me see some of them, though."

"Yeah, I know. Someday."

"I'll get to you, girl, just you wait," Chloe said with a grin, as the brushed the snow off their sleeve, and turned and walked further into the junkyard.

"What is this place?" Max asked, checking the time on her phone. "You take all the girls here? 'Cause, like, no offense but it's getting later, and it's winter, and I don't really want to freeze my ass off out here."

"Don't worry, I'd never do that to your ass. We'll get you and it warm in a second, just follow me."

She trudged after the blue-haired punk, further into the mess of twisted metal. There was a small concrete-brick building there, with holes in the wall. As she walked in, Max saw Chloe bent over a pile of wood, in a little pit in the center of the space. There was a short, quick, spark, and fire spread across the wood.

"This is your lair?" Max asked, looking at the junk in the corners, and the graffiti on the walls.

"Me and Rachel found it, and cleaned it out, and made it, together," Chloe said, throwing a blanket to Max. "Use that, get close to the fire, and get yourself warm. I have some booze and weed, but, like, that doesn't seem like your style, Caulfield."

"Nah, I am not about weed, or the bottles," Max laughed, as she settled down on the dirty-covered floor, as close to the growing fire as she could bare. "It's still cold."

"Yeah," Chloe replied, vaguely, as she tended the fire, "it is. After I got kicked out of my parents I had to rough it more than a few nights before, before, well, her."

"Rachel," Max said, softly, remembering the unread message, and the old pangs of jealousy.

"Yeah, her."

"What was she like?"

"Eh, it's been a year since I've seen her," Chloe said, as they pulled a blanket over them, and hunched over on the other side of the fire, half-obscured from Max's vision by the flames. "She ghosted me hard, so I guess she didn't want a part of it anymore. Didn't want all this. Not that she was perfect, or anything. I've gotten over her, a lot, the hot and cold, on and off. But still, I hella loved her, Max. She saved me. She was my angel when no one else was."

"Not even me?" Max felt herself asking, the words slipping off her tongue and through her teeth before she could stop them.

"You were online," Chloe protested, a slight note of hostility creeping into their voice, "and I didn't know your name, or where you were, or anything. You meant the world to me, but, like, she was here when I needed that. And I don't know how to move on from that."

"Yeah, I think they were teasing you about it," Max said, looking down at her hands.

"Who?"

"Your house mates."

"Yeah, they do that."

The silence stretched out between them, in what felt like an unbearably long time, as the sun finally set outside, and the world deepened into darkness. The only pool of light was the fire, occasionally tended to by Chloe, glowing between them. And on the other side, half hidden by flame, and half lost in shadow, was Chloe. They had seemed so strong, when Max had first met them. Online, yes, when they had helped her come out, but even after, over the holiday. And now they were sitting their, their knees drown up, into the chest of their battle jacket, and something was wrong.

She needed to fill the silence. So she spoke.

"What happened?"

"What happened to what?" Chloe said, their voice tense, and defensive.

"Like, to you and Rachel? You said she ghosted you. What happened?"

There was a long pause, before the reply finally came, across the fire.

"I don't know. She was always in and out. And then one day she went to a party, and I came down here, and the next morning all her stuff was gone from our place. Just like that. No idea what happened at that party, or what the fuck I did for her to leave me, but I have my theories. And there is someone who I think knows more than he has told."

Silence, and the fire filled the space, which suddenly seemed far smaller, and more claustrophic than it had before. Max shivered.

"Who?"

"Nathan fucking Prescott," Chloe said, practically spitting his name into the fire. "She went to this party of Blackwell elites, or whatever. Rich kid bullshit, but she was like that. And I know Nathan was there. Near the start of your fall semester I even went to one of them, to try to find out more. I think he slipped something into my drink, although it's nothing I could prove if I even wanted to go to the cops. That's why I was in the bathroom, trying to blackmail him a little."

"Jesus, Chloe," Max said, wishing she could reach across and touch them, "I'm so, sorry. I didn't know."

"Yeah, well, no one does. Or no one cares," they said, while staring into the fire. "Just stay away from those fuckers, Max."

"I will, but, like, do they have a name?"

"I think they're called the Vortex Club or some bullshit. Woah, woah, what is it?"

Max had stood, almost letting the blanket fall into the fire, as she pulled out her phone, and sent a frantic text to Victoria. Her heart was racing, and her palms felt sweaty, despite the cold. She forced herself to focus, and push the words past her lips.

"Chloe, Kate Marsh is at a Vortex Club party."

"Shit," Chloe seconded.


	12. Sex and Gender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A flashback, a morning and...the aftermath of a party?
> 
> CW for allusions to drug use, assault, and other in game themes.

What are you doing out here?” Max had asked, a few days after the New Year, walking out to join the punk looking up at the stars.

“Medicating,” Chloe replied, through a hazy cloud that hung around them. “Don’t you have, like, stuff to do? You’re taking that class with Jeffershit or whatever his name is, right, and you have to read about stuffy, old, dead French guys?”

Max looked at them. Their self-done undercut was ragged, with, hair-dye growing out, under their beanie. Tall, lanky, and proud against the sky they stood, staring up into its endless abyss. The moon was full, up there, sailing through the void, casting a cold, pale light down on them, in their battle jacket. For a moment Max had a vision of them on a rooftop, as if in another life, leaning towards each other.

She shook her head, and shoved her hands deep into her hoodie, trying in vain to warm herself even slightly.

“Yeah, I could,” she muttered, thinking of the class she was supposed to be attending soon. “But I wanted to spend time with you.”

There was a moment of silence, before Chloe spoke.

“You know, sometimes when I look up there, and think about god, or gods, or whatever, I get mad. ‘Cause, like, the universe is so big, and dark, and spiraling out forever. You’d think someone up there would care a little more. But still my dad dies, my mom marries a transphobic piece of shit, and Rachel leaves me. Did you know that my dad died, even? Did I tell you that? My old username was the day of the car wreck.”

Their voice was icily calm, but there was a tension to it, and something ran up Max’s spine, as she tried to find the words to say.

“Chloe, no, I had no idea. I’m sorry,” she said, reaching out for their shoulder.

“Forget it, Max,” Chloe snapped, suddenly bringing their eyes down, “we’ve got more important shit to do than take care of my sorry ass. And as much as you want to deny it you are still a Blackwell kid. You want to study hella bougie professors, and leave this life behind, and why not? But listen to me when I say that there is nothing good about that school, and I hope someone drops a nuke on it one of these days.”

“Chloe,” Max began, again, “I’m sorry, did something happen to you there? Are you alright?”

“I said forget it,” the punk replied, almost snarling as they stalked towards the warmth of the house, “you aren’t here to take care of me.”

***

“I don’t do much theory,” Chloe said, as their truck bumped and rolled over the road. “Although Assata Shakur I can get behind.”

“Who?” Max replied, yawning, in the early Saturday morning light, still tired after her few scant hours of sleep.

“Assata Shakur. We must love and support one another, and all that?” Chloe asked, looking over at Max, who shook her head. “Fine, I’ll tell you about her later. I like her, though. By the way, are you sure you need to go into work today? Is your boss an asshole or something?”

“Samuel’s nice,” Max said with a shrug, “but I need the money from the weekend job. You will protect her, though, won’t you?”

“Yes, of course. She’ll be fine.. And I’ll pick you up when you’re done.”

***

“So how is she?” Max asked, as she pulled herself up into Chloe’s truck, and the last of the sunlight faded from the western horizon, and the stars started coming out overhead.

“Oh, shit, you smell hella rancid,” Chloe said, choking back a cough. “What the fuck is that?”

“Industrial cleaning agents probably, but stop delaying. How is Kate?”

“She’s finally awake, yeah,” the punk said, with a frown, as they peeled away from Blackwell. “A little groggy, a little pukey when she first woke up. I’m still not sure what drugs she got slipped. She doesn’t seem to have much memory of last night.”

“So still no idea who did it?”

“I mean, I have my ideas, yes,” Chloe said, practically spitting the words out, “but nothing we can prove, probably. Unless that rich chick you were texting last night has told you anything else.”

“Victoria was acting really weird when we got Kate at the party,” Max coughed, frowning, “like even weirder than she normally is, and she kinda hates me already. I don’t think she’s going to text me for a long time.”

“Bitch knows more than she’s saying,” Chloe muttered.

“But, like, how is she? Kate?”

“Confused, I think,” Chloe said, more carefully, as they neared the punk’s house. “And worried. Scared, too, I think, although she hadn’t really gotten up or around to talking when I left. Although maybe, come to think of it, she might just be intimidated by the shit in my room. She, uh, doesn’t strike me as the kinda girl I normally take home.”

“She is a Christian, yes,” Max said, more defensively than she intended to. “But she’s good people. I mean, you know how she is downtown.”

“What I know about her,” Chloe retorted, “is that she wears a cross around her neck, you haven’t bothered to come out to her, and falls into the huge group of people who it is not worth my time or effort to correct when they call me she.”

“I’m sorry, about that, by the way,” Max said, reaching across, and then drawing her hand back just before it reached Chloe’s shoulder.

“Eh, it’s nothing,” Chloe said, waving their hand vaguely. “First there are people like her, who can call me whatever gets me out of a conversation the quickest, then queer people and people I trust who can call me they. Then there’s the others.”

“What others?”

“People who have permission to use she and her. People who I actually want to do that to me.”

“Oh,” Max said, trying to process this information. “And how many people are in that group?”

“Lovers,” Chloe said, turning around, and grinning, “so right now only Rachel, if she ever theoretically decides to come back to me that is. Now come on, we’re home, and I don’t know how Kate and Justin will get along.”

Chloe leapt out of the car, onto the snowy ground, before Max could process the discussion of gender and pronouns. It was so complicated, after what they had both grown up saying. It used to be that they were just trans women, closeted, or out, but women. And then Chloe had gotten out of their shitty home, gotten on hormones, turned out looking like that, and…changed. They had grown, and they were no longer the online friend Max had once known. She sighed, as she too got out of the pick-up, and followed the blue-haired punk up to the front of the hosue.

“Oh, hey, you two,” Kate said, as they stepped inside and shut the door behind them.

“What up, Marsh?” Chloe said, making a little nod.

Max froze and looked at Kate. It had hurt having to leave her unconscious, in the morning, and Max felt like she was scanning her, now, as if that would reveal her internal condition, or what had happened to her last night. She was dressed in some clothes referencing superheroes, which probably meant they were Brooke’s, and she was smiling, as she held a trash bag in her hands. Her hair was pulled back up, and her necklace hung around her neck, and she looked tired, but like herself. And try as she might Max could not rectify the image of this Kate Marsh standing in front of her with the one they had taken from the Vortex Club party at Blackwell just the night before, when her hair had been down, her speech slurred, and her clothes in disarray. It was like night and day.

“Just cleaning up a little,” Kate said brightly. “If I had known that your house was this dirty I would have worried more about you, Chloe.”

“Yeah, well,” Chloe replied with a laugh, “everyone here wants a revolution and no one wants to take care of the house.”

“Speak for yourself!” Stella called from the kitchen, out of sight from where Chloe and Max stood in the entrance way, slowly warming up from the winter cold. “I’m making dinner for all of you. You’d think after surviving my family, and dropping out of a school that was slowly killing me I’d have better things to do that slowly die in a kitchen, but nope, here I am. Justin, if I die here I want Chloe blamed. They won’t get away with it.”

“I’ll make sure to rat them out,” Justin’s voice replied from the living room.

“You’re the best, Stell!” Chloe shouted, before turning back and looking at Kate. “So how are you feeling, Marsh?”

“Better,” Kate said with a frown, as Chloe idly kicked at a pair of boots sitting on the floor, “the nausea is mostly gone now, as well as the headache. I honestly can’t thank you enough for letting me sleep here and recover all morning. I guess my parents were right, and I can’t handle alcohol.”

“I’m so glad you’re okay, Kate,” Max said with a smile, but Chloe interrupted, as they kept kicking at the boots, looking at their feet, and avoiding eye-contact.

“First,” Chloe said, their voice harsh, “I don’t know them that much, but fuck your parents, probably. Second, they’re wrong, that hella weak alcohol they were serving up at Blackhell wouldn’t’ve done shit to you. And third, someone absolutely drugged you, last night, Marsh.”

“Chloe,” Max cautioned, “Kate as just been through a lot. This probably can wait until tomorrow.”

“Fuck all that noise. Kate, what do you remember about last night? Cause we got a big pile of fuck all from the queen bitch Victoria you were with. when we rescued you. Bet she knows more.”

“I don’t think she had anything to do with it,” Kate said, as she put down the trash bag. “I know she’s not always nice, but please don’t talk about her like that.”

“I’ll talk about her however the fuck I want,” Chloe snarled.

“Chloe!” Max shouted, but the punk ignored her warning.

“So what do you remember, Marsh?”

“I, not much,” Kate replied hesitantly, her lower lip shaking, slightly. “I remember Victoria, and a lot of other people. Maybe even a professor or two? Oh, and that poor boy who got stabbed in a bathroom last semester and only recently returned to school.”

“Fucking Nathan Prescott,” Chloe shouted, suddenly picking up the boot at her feet and slamming it against the door. “I fucking knew it. I should have killed that little slime when I got the fucking chance.”

“Hey! Chloe!” Stella shouted from the other room “Remember your anger issues, rein it the fuck in!”

“Shit, shit, shit,” Chloe cursed, pulling their beanie off, and running their hands through their hair. “Fuck everything.”

“Chloe,” Max said, reaching out to touch them. “Are you alright? What set you off? Can I help?”

“I don’t fucking need help!” Chloe screamed, flinching away just as Max’s hand reached their shoulder.

A quiet sobbing suddenly seemed to interrupt them. They both turned, and saw Kate Marsh sitting on the first step of the stairs, her hands folded across her chest, slowly rocking back and forth and crying. Max felt frozen in place as she saw Stella rush from the kitchen, and sit down beside her, shushing her gently.

“Kate,” Max murmured.

“Fuck me, I’m sorry, Kate,” Chloe muttered, as they turned and walked further into the house. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Go after them,” Stella hissed, as they disappeared from view.

“Someone should stay with Kate,” Max replied numbly.

“Listen,” Stella hissed, looking up at her, “I’ve got her, and you are their friend, but you weren’t around the past couple of years, or when Rachel left and we made sure they were never alone. So go out there, and talk to them, so we know they're fucking safe. Do you get what I’m saying, Max Caulfield?”

“Yes,” Max muttered, and turned to go.

"Are they okay?" Justin asked, vaguely, from the couch, as Max followed after them, hearing the door to the back yard slam shut.

She did not answer him. Her attention was on the door. She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and opened it, out into the night.

“Chloe, what the fuck is going on?” Max asked, as she stormed out to the back yard, after the punk.

“Fucking nothing!” Chloe screamed.

“Bullshit! You don’t just fucking destroy a chair and a closet like that and make a traumatized girl that scared for nothing.”

“Maybe that is what I do,” Chloe replied, as the slumped down onto the snow. “Maybe I just destroy things.”

“You want to destroy Blackwell, right?” Max asked, thinking of Mark Jefferson.

“Burn it all to the fucking ground for all I care.”

“Well, if you want to do that you are going to need help. We’re here to help you. I am here to help you. We must love and support one another, right?” Max asked, the same words that she had heard Chloe tell her spilling from her mouth, almost without her realizing. “I am here to help. Because I care about you.”

Chloe looked up at her, for a long second, their eyes hard, and glaring, in the middle of the snow, before they spoke.

“It happened to me too.”

“What?”

“The same thing that happened to Kate,” Chloe said, with venom in their voice, “Nathan fucking Prescott happened. He drugged me, and I barely got out.”

Max paused, before she replied, and held out a hand, to pull Chloe up.

“It doesn’t change anything. And we’ll figure it out together, Chloe.”

Chloe looked at her, for a second, and then took the offered hand.


	13. Because They Are Easy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A flashback and a very awkward meal.
> 
> CW for brief misgendering.

She stood with the pill in the palm of her hand, tiny and blue. It was so easy, the doctor had said, a low dose, once a day, and the changes would start. The hair on her face would stop coming in as fast, as her testosterone levels dropped. Her nose would stop growing, her fat would redistribute, and her skin would soften. The sunlight streamed in through the window of her parent’s apartment, now in Seattle. This was her life, and it felt so, so constricted, like it was all closing in around her.

It was easy, her parents had said. They supported her, and loved her, and helped her, as much as they could between the jobs and the moves. They loved Maxine Caulfield, their daughter, and they knew what today was for her. They knew what it meant, and why she had wanted to be alone, and what she was doing. So many people online, for after Soft there had been more, told her horror stories about their own parents. Soft had been trapped in a horror story like that. And yet Max’s parents loved and accepted her as she was. It should have been easy.

But she still felt trapped.

She took the pill, washing it down with a glass of water. She was alone, as she had requested. No one shared the moment with her. She had not known what she had expected. She knew the speed at which it would work, and the slowness of progress. She had seen the timelines on the internet. But it still should have felt like more, she thought. She still felt trapped in her body, and her own life, only hopeful that Blackwell could be her escape.

Gender was easy, hormones were easy, and all that would be easy. If she could only escape. That would be the hard part of her life, she thought, finding a place where she no longer felt trapped. But she had to try. She had to keep moving forward.

***

Max looked from Chloe, to Justin, to Stella, to Brooke, to Kate, and back to the blue-haired punk she had once known online, a lifetime ago, it seemed. It was Sunday evening, and tomorrow, early in the morning, Chloe would drive Max back to campus. She still had Mark Jefferson’s class, and things to learn. She needed to learn them.

And despite the repeated requests of Stella, Kate was going back to her dorm too, tomorrow. It was fine, she had insisted, nothing actually had happened to her, right? It’s not like this mattered, or anyone would remember this, the Christian girl had insisted. So she was returning, with one last meal of mac and cheese before she left the punk house. Max had had many meals here, over the break, from food salvaged from dumpsters, to home-cooked vegan dishes which made her mouth water. And she had never felt a meal this awkward before. She felt trapped by it.

“So, Chloe,” Kate said, suddenly, looking up and smiling, as if the previous silence had not stretched out for nearly two full minutes full of awkward chewing sounds, “I’ve been working with you downtown, but I don’t think I actually know that much about you. Do you have family? Parents? Siblings?”

“My dad got killed by a car wreck years ago, my mom married a total transphobic tool, and my girlfriend skipped town or ghosted me, or something,” Chloe said, through their food, without missing a beat. “So you could say my life has been pretty much been dipped in shit as far as family is concerned.”

“Oh, Chloe,” Kate said, putting a hand to her chest, “you’re sweet and you deserve so much better, girl.”

Beside Kate’s elbow Justin coughed violently, stood, and excused himself, as Max felt her face flush, and the air around Chloe seemed to chill. And then, suddenly, incongruously, the blue-haired punk smiled.

“You’re good people, Marsh, I’ll give you that much. And cute too,” Chloe said, and for a moment as she watched them stare wolfishly at Kate, Max felt something rise up in her throat. “Must be those good Christian values.”

“Oh, well, I try,” Kate said, and Max noticed the slightest sign of a flush around her cheeks. “My dad is really religious, and he taught me that everyone deserves love, and respect, and needs help from time to time. We are God acting in the world, right? That’s why I help out downtown. Which, by the way, thank you so much for helping with, Max.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Max said, vaguely, looking down at her grey hoodie, baggy, loose across her chest, and stained by cleaning agents.

“And besides,” Kate continued, apparently oblivious to the discomfort that seemed to seep from the table itself, “you got to meet Chloe, and I told you that she’s cool, and I was right. I mean look at her.”

At Kate’s other elbow Brooke coughed, and stood, leaving Max alone, preparing for an outburst that would come from Chloe. They had been misgendered, right? In their own home, at their table, by the Christian girl, and they had anger issues. They had said only Rachel had been allowed to use that pronoun.

“I have my moments,” Chloe said casually, through another bite of food, like nothing unusual was happening. “But still, Max helped a lot.”

“Yeah, he did,” Kate said, shooting Max a strange, and happy smile.

There was only a beat, before Chloe was knocking the food in front of them off the table, grabbing a fork, and leaning over, at Kate, sitting across from them. Stella screamed, rose to her feet, and the end of the table, and stepped back, but Max just sat there, watching Chloe and Kate. She felt frozen in place on her seat. She was trapped, and had to see this, no matter how hard it might be.

“She’s a goddamn woman, Marsh,” Chloe said, as Kate drew back into herself. “She and her, alright? Don’t be shit-talking my friend in my own goddamn home.”

“Chloe!” Stella shouted, more as a warning than anything else.

Chloe froze, and then sat back down, heavily, across the table from the girl with the cross necklace, at Max’s side, staring daggers at Kate.

“Don’t fucking misgender her again.” Chloe said, letting their fork clatter down onto the table.

Kate breathed in, and then out, as Stella reached for her. But before the other girl could touch her, she looked up, her expression confused, as she spoke.

“I don’t understand. What did I do? What is misgendering someone?”

“Ah, shit,” Justin said, from the other room, “we’ve got a clueless one here. It’s always annoying to explain things to the cishets.”

“The what?” Kate asked, turning her head this way and that, almost like she was an owl trying to look at something.

“I assume that you do know what being gay is, right, Marsh?” Chloe said, with a heavy sigh.

Kate’s face turned in strange directions, and for a moment her eyes flicked towards the windows. All the while Max watched, in fascinated horror, before the Christian girl eventually replied.

“I mean, like, yes, that was something we were taught about back home,” she said quietly, looking down at her hands, “like I get that some guys like guys and some, well, um, some girls do too, I guess. Like girls, that is. Other girls.”

“So you aren’t gonna be hella homophobic are you, then?” Chloe asked.

“No!” Kate said, suddenly looking up, her eyes flashing. “I mean, like, no. I know some, some people like me are. But, like, helping out downtown, knowing you Chloe, I just think that everyone deserves love and respect, and maybe an angel or two watching out for them. Because, like, you are gay, right, Chloe? That’s what this is all about? ‘Cause if that’s what it is I’ve known that for a while.”

“Nope!” Chloe said, standing up, and walking over to pick their plastic plate off the floor. “I mean, yeah, I am gay, but that’s not what this is about. This isn’t even about you misgendering me, ‘cause I couldn’t care less what a cis het girl like you thinks of me. This is about you fucking misgendering Max.”

“Chloe!” Max found herself saying, as she felt herself rising out of the seat, and locked eyes with the blue-haired punk. “Stop.”

“Fuck no!” Chloe said, spit flying from their lips. “Like, you don’t get it, do you, Max? I don’t give a shit what people say about me, ‘cause I’ve heard worse from my step-fascist. But I am not going to sit here and listen to my friend get misgendered. I gotta defend you. That’s just the way it is.”

“Chloe,” Max said again, a little more softly, this time, “I know. I understand, and it means a lot to me, believe me. But I’m not out to her, or anyone at Blackwell yet. Or was not, at least.”

Chloe looked at her, their mouth open, for a long moment, before they muttered under their breath, and bent back down to clean up the macaroni from the floor.

“Well, I guess despite having all those bougie photography hipsters over there, everyone at Blackwell is hella blind.”

“Umm, sorry,” Kate said, hesitantly raising her hand. “I don’t understand what’s going on? I am really lost. And what does that word mean? Misgendering?”

“It means I’m a girl,” Max felt herself saying, the words slipping out of her mouth before she could stop them.

“Wait, what?”

Max looked at her. Kate Marsh, her friend. She had been through something horrible, that Friday, and she was still so cheerful. Or she had been, rather, before this disastrous dinner. Now she was just looking at Max from the other side of the table, her head turned slightly, and her face in a frown.

The words had left her mouth. The whole punk house was deadly silent, and Max knew there was no way back. For a moment she remembered those early days, after Chloe, before hormones. She remembered the doctors, and coming out, and the bloodwork. It had not been easy. She had felt trapped by her life and her own body, looking forward to Blackwell as her only escape.

But at Blackwell, between Nathan Prescott, and Kate, and Rachel, and the jobs, and everything else she still felt trapped. She felt like the universe was spiraling out of control, and she could not stop it. She wished she could just take those words back, and rewind time. But she could not, and the only way she had found to survive being trapped was to keeping moving forward. She took a deep breath, and spoke.

“I’m a woman.”

“But, like, I’ve seen the name on your door, you are,” Kate began looking utterly perplexed.

“My name is Maxine Caulfield,” Max said, the words feeling heavy in her chest, “whatever else is on my legal documents, or my Blackwell records. I am transgender, and I am a woman.”

You could have heard a mouse in the walls, as Kate’s jaw slowly opened and shut again, like she was chewing on unspoken0 words.

“And I’m a hella hot fucking mess who uses they and them pronouns most of the time,” Chloe chimed in, awkwardly, “my name’s Chloe Price, and I’m hella trans and gay too, surprise.”

Still Kate said nothing.

“Do I gotta get shirtless?” Justin shouted, again, from the other room. “Because I paid eight thousand bucks to be able to do that, and I absolutely will get shirtless if that’s what it takes for the Christian to understand.”

Finally words managed to escape Kate’s mouth.

“So, like, Chloe, you don’t want to be a woman? And Max you want to be a,” she started before Chloe cut her off.

“Max is a woman. Full stop. End of story. She just came out to you, now show some respect.”

Kate’s eyes flicked back and forth, and then down to her feet, again.

“I think I should go back to Blackwell.”

“Are you sure you don’t need more time away from that place?” Stella asked, hurriedly. “Something pretty traumatic did just happen to you two days ago.”

“It’s fine,” Kate said, looking back up, with a forced smile, “nothing to bad happened while I was under the influence and no one will ever remember it in a week. And I think that I need to do, ummm, research, into a couple of things.”

“I can drive you,” Chloe offered.

“No!” Kate said, hurriedly, and then, caught herself, hesitated, and spoke again. “I think I need to be alone, for a little bit, and think about some things. I can take the bus.”

“Oh, alright,” Max said, rubbing her arms, as the Christian girl headed towards the door. “Be safe? Kate?”

“Yeah, yeah, will do. And Max,” Kate began, standing in the doorway, “no, never mind what I was about to say.”

She turned, the door opened, and closed, and just like that she was gone. The five of them were alone in the house, again. Chloe coughed.

“Well, that was hella exciting.”

“You’ve got serious anger issues, Price,” Stella muttered, under her breath.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Chloe said, with a dismissive wave of their hand. “But you’re not my therapist. What about you, Max? Are you alright? That’s a big deal what you just did right there.”

“Yeah,” Max said, sitting back down onto her chair, heavily. “It was. So why do I still feel so numb? Shouldn’t I feel something more? Relief? Like I weight has been taken from my shoulders? And yet I feel like nothing much has changed. Just, like, like, I still feel like I am trapped.”

“Max,” Chloe said, gently, as they closed the distance, and squatted down next to the chair, until Max was not paying attention to anything else in the room but them. “It’s okay. You did great. It’s a hard thing, I know. One of the hardest. But that’s why we don’t fucking give up, and keep on going forward. Together. Right?”

Max sighed, and looked away from the sudden intensity of their deep blue eyes, as something new and yet familiar fluttered in her chest.

“Yes, Chloe. Together.”


	14. Visible Differences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of different conversations, and the fallout of what came before.
> 
> CW for allusions to assault, suicidality, bullying, and other in-game themes.

“So are you going to apologize?”

“For what?” Chloe asked, from the driver’s side of their truck, as the early morning sunlight played across their surprisingly soft features.

“Yesterday?” Max replied.

“But you needed the hug, right?” Chloe said, confused. “Or, like, did you object to the evening grope? Sorry, bad joke, ignore me. I didn’t think a hug was out of line, though?”

“Not for that,” Max said, hearing a hint of anger seeping into her own voice. “For outing me to Kate yesterday.”

“I mean, yeah, I am sorry, Supermax,” Chloe said, with a frown, “it is hella shitty to out someone against their will, I do get that, but, like, uh, how long have you been on hormones now?”

“About a year, why?”

“Because you aren’t always going to be able to hide it under the depression hoodies. It’s getting to be hella obvious already. I just assumed she already knew and was being a dick, my bad, okay?”

“It’s my call when and how I come out to people,” Max said, looking away, the heat in her chest rising. “I mean Kate is still a Christian, and I don’t know how she’ll feel. Maybe she’ll even out me to more people.”

“She won’t!” Chloe snorted. “She’s good people and she won’t do that. Although maybe it might do you some good. You always were too afraid, even back online, stuck in all your plans, letting other people determine your life. You need me as a good bad influence, to push you out of your comfort zone and live a little!”

“Oh, live a little like how?” Max snapped.

“I don’t know! Push you to get into a mosh pit sometime, or dare you to kiss someone! I’ll think of something! But whatever the fuck it is you don’t have to be such a hella shy cliché egg.”

“It could be dangerous, Chloe.”

“Shit, fine, you’re right,” Chloe said, with an exaggerated sigh, as they slammed on the brakes, and the truck came to stop in front of the entrance to Blackwell. “I’m hella sorry, okay? Now just go do you studying and photography and work bullshit.”

“Just like that?” Max said, irritated.

“Yeah, just like that. I know some people up here at Blackwell and don’t really want to hang around. Especially given the shit that went down in that one bathroom last semester, remember?”

“Fine.”

Max looked at them, for a moment. Their face was clouded, and contorted, somehow, despite their empty expression. They were hiding their emotions, Max thought. She was missing something, she knew, deep and dark, and lurking under the surface. But she had no idea what they were feeling, or even really why they suddenly seemed to be mad at each other. It was like Chloe had no ability to moderate themselves. This weekend had started so well, in the junkyard, bonding about what they had been through, and it had ended like this, with no easy resolution. She opened the door, grabbed her backpack, and stepped out. The door slammed shut behind her, and Chloe’s beat up old pickup sped away.

***

“So, like, I’m sorry I was a bit of a dick, after everything with Kate,” Chloe texted, two days later. “I think you’re hella cool and I’d like to hang out more. Hope I didn’t screw that up too much.”

“Nah, you’re forgiven,” Max replied, after ten minutes. “And I think you’re hella cool too :)”

“Oh god, you’re making me reconsider apologizing. No emoji. Also, how is Marsh doing?”

“She hasn’t talked to me since you saw her last.”

“Damn, well, hope she’s okay. And look after her. Check in on her and shit. I mean, she went through the same shit as me. And you know we all gotta take care of each other. Love and protect each other yada yada yada.”

“Yes Cap’n :)”

“Thin fucking ice, Caulfield. Peace!”

***

“Hey, have you heard from Kate recently?”

“Who is this?” Max asked, replying twenty-five minutes later.

“Oh, right, I forgot you didn’t know I had your number. This is Warren, from downtown. I wanted to know if you had heard from Kate recently.”

“I’ve sent her a few messages, but she hasn’t replied, why?”

“Something shitty got posted in some private servers and sites some of the other students use,” Warren replied, twelve minutes later, “I’ve spent most of the afternoon taking down mirrored versions of it, but someone keeps on reposting it. My money is on one of those Vortex Club bitches, or their simps. Just wanted to make sure she’s okay.”

“Yeah, right, I’ll see what I can do. Also, umm, you probably shouldn’t call women that, Warren.”

“Woah, look at the white knight!”

“What?”

“Lol, no worries, bro, just messing.”

***

“Hey, just wanted to check in again, and see how you were doing. I’m here if you need me.”

“Hey, Max,” Kate replied, five days later, “sorry for ignoring you for so long, in class, and in these messages. They really meant a lot to me. But after what happened a few weeks ago I was really busy, and then, well, some other stuff happened. But I’d still love to talk to you, and get everything settled, and in order. There’s a tea place downtown that I really like, not too far from where we used to volunteer, actually. Want to go there tomorrow?”

“Uh, working and school all day tomorrow,” Max replied, seven minutes later. “But I can do, say, afternoon the day after?”

“Sounds fantastic, I will see you there, after I buy a few things.”

“Looking forward to it.”

***

“Hey, Kate.”

“Oh, hey Max,” Kate said, hurriedly pushing the letter she had been looking at into the envelope in front of her. “Um, is it still alright if I call you Max?”

“Yeah, yeah, I still go by that.”

Kate froze, her smile a little pained, and forced. She looked tired, sitting at this small, circular table, outside a little tea place, downtown. Businessmen in expensive suits walked by, hurriedly, in the late-winter, late afternoon sun of this unseasonably warm day. Kate’s hair was pulled up, as always, and her clothes were neat, and modest, from her dress to her cross necklace. But something seemed off about her, stiff and uncomfortable. She was probably just unsure how to approach the issues that had come between them, Max thought.

“Um, do you want to have a seat?”

“Right, sure,” Max said automatically, as she sat down on the other side, a mug of steaming tea slowly cooling between them, next to the envelope.

There was a long, long awkward pause, before Kate spoke.

“I don’t want to believe that there’s anything wrong with it, you know. Like, hey, if someone who isn’t, well, I guess, Christian, like me, wants to be gay that should be fine, right? Or, like, be another gender, I guess. I just didn’t understand it.”

“It being, being trans?” Max said, shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her hoodie, and wishing she could sink into her chair.

“Yeah, and like, I started to do some research online, before, well, umm, something stopped me.”

“Oh, like, did you find some stuff about transitioning that made you uncomfortable?” Max said, trying to understand the strange conversation she found herself in, and remembering all the old, creepy websites she had stumbled across as a preteen, looking for answers online.

“No, no, not that,” Kate replied hurried. “Did you, umm, talk to Warren at all? Over the past few weeks?”

“A little, why?”

“Did he tell you about the video?”

“He said something about servers? I wasn’t paying too much attention, honestly, and he was kind of distracting me with other things.”

“Warren’s a good person,” Kate said, with a sad strange smile, “if a little awkward at times. But if you don’t know about it yet then it honestly doesn’t really matter, and I would rather not talk about it.”

“Oh, okay,” Max said, still lost.

“Sorry, sorry,” Kate continued, with a forced laughed, as she sipped her tea. “I wanted to come down here to get everything right. And not have anything on my conscience. And, like, well I still am a little confused, and probably will never get answers to some things about being trans, or whatever, but that doesn’t matter. More than any of my questions I want to apologize to you, Max.”

“Oh, right. What for?”

“I mean,” Kate said, laughing again, as he eyes flicked towards the envelope. “In what little research I could do, it made it pretty clear that transgender people have been treated badly by people like me. But I think more specifically I need to apologize for, what was it called again? Misgendering you. I am sorry, Max Caulfield. I hope you can forgive me?”

Max looked into her eyes. Kate was obviously tired, or exhausted, more like, but despite it she was still trying to smile. Whatever else she was, Kate was good people.

“Yes, I forgive you.”

“Oh, god, thank you, so much, Max. That means a lot to me and makes me worry a whole lot less about the future.”

“Why would you worry?”

“No reason.”

“Hey, Kate,” Max said, slowly, and carefully, as Kate sipped more tea. “I hate to ask this but you didn’t tell anyone, did you? Or you aren’t going to tell anyone in the future? About me, that is.”

“No,” Kate said, her smile a little easier, and brighter this time, like she was looking forward to something good on the horizon, “rest assured you will have absolutely no need to worry about that with me, Max. Your secret is and will be safe.”

“Oh thank god,” Max sighed, “you have no idea how much that will keep me from worrying.”

“You’re welcome, and, uh, this is a little bit sudden, I know, but can I ask you a really heavy question?” Kate asked, her fingers tapping on the white envelope on the table in front of her.

“I guess?”

“What do you think happens when we die?”

“Well, I,” Max began, leaning back, and trying to follow the train of logic that had gotten her here, “I don’t know. I could say that I believe in your god, or some other weird old gods out there, looking down at us all, and this strange universe. I guess I could say that I hope we get buried someplace warm, and golden, with butterflies, and all of the people we knew in life, for better or worse, there watching us go into the ground. I guess I could say that I hope my death means something, like, I don’t know, I’m saving a town or something. But I really don’t know, and I’m confused why you asked.”

“My parents,” Kate replied, looking down into her mug, swallowing, and starting again, “my family is really, really religious, as you probably know by now. And I love them all so, so much. Especially my dad. But I just grew up hearing certain things about, like, what happens after we die. Hell, and things like that. And who goes there.”

“Kate,” Max said softly, leaning in towards her, “you don’t think that me or Chloe are going to hell for being who we are, right?”

“No! No, nothing like that,” Kate reassured her, worry flashing across her face. “I’m not even really convinced that hell exists. It just doesn’t make much sense to me personally that an all good god would do something like that that, and it just makes a lot more sense to me that when we die we just, like, stop existing. But, like, I guess that’s not really the point, or why I’m rambling right now”

“Why are you telling me about all this, Kate?”

Kate looked over at Max, opened her mouth, and shut it again, before forcing a smile onto her lips. It did not reach her eyes, Max noticed, as the girl with her hair up in a bun sipped her tea.

“I don’t know, just think about it a lot, I guess. I think about how even if hell isn’t real the people who believe in it still are, and that changes how they act as far as others are concerned. But that is isn’t important, right now. What is important is that I think you should order some tea, and I think we should stay awhile and enjoy the evening air. I can show you picture of Alice, if you want?”

“Who’s Alice?”

“She’s my bunny,” Kate said, with a real, genuine smile, as she pulled her phone out of her pocket. “I worry about her, sometimes, and what will happen to her in the future. But I know my family will look after her no matter what happens. I know even you would take care of her, if you needed too. I trust you with that. So, Max, what do you say? Want to stay for a while?”

Max looked at her again. She was bright now, and her smile reached her eyes, as she looked at the pictures on her phone. But there was still something cold which reached into Max’s chest more than the nip in the air. She felt like there was something she was missing something deep, and dark, lurking just under the surface. But she could not identify it, so she made herself smile, as she replied.

“I’d love that.”

***

“Went downtown to help out, today, with some stuff I got from the Sav-Mart by totally legal and upstanding means,” Chloe texted, late that evening. “Kate still wasn’t there, and they said they hadn’t seen her in a long time. Except Frank, maybe? He acted really weird when I asked and wouldn’t give me a straight answer. You know if she’s alright?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Max replied, two minutes later. “I saw her just a few hours ago, and we got tea.”

“Uh, weird that she wouldn’t go downtown.”

“Actually she was down there. Said she had to buy a few things?”

“Okay, even weirder then that she wouldn’t help us out with the distribution. What did you two talk about?”

“Lots of different things. A little about being trans, along with an apology. She was actually really accepting and sweet. Then the conversation kinda turned a little bit, to family, and hell, and what we think comes after death. It was a little weird, but good weird. I also got to see some pictures of her bunny, Alice.”

“What about Alice?”

“Oh, just some stuff about how she hopes someone takes care of Alice, even me, she said, although I think she was just joking, since it didn’t make much sense.”

“Like, you taking care of Alice instead of her?”

“I guess?”

There was a two minute pause before Chloe texted back.

“Well, fuck me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the feedback of a few friends, I am going to slow down the posting of this fic, despite having a backlog. I will be updating at least once a week, maybe twice if I can't stop myself, and I will try to keep the updates on Fridays or weekends. Thank you all for reading!


	15. Have Been the Primary Ways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath and what came before.
> 
> CW for suicidality, a suicide attempt, suicidal ideation, hospitals, overdose, and other in game themes.

A monitor, or an alarm, or some distant piece of medical machinery was beeping somewhere, from one of the many rooms around her. It was regular, though, almost rhythmic. And no one ran past her, so Max assumed that it had to be routine. Right? Because the alternative was that someone was dying.

Her leg drummed on the floor, and her hands fluttered in her lap. She kept on leaning her back into the chair, and resting her head on the beige wall, only to lean forward again. She could not get comfortable in the hospital hallway, or the small, hard plastic chair, as the lights hummed above her, and nurses softly talked at the far end of the hallway. She wished Chloe was here with her.

“First time though here, I’m guessing by how you look?”

Max glanced up. There was an older woman standing there, on the tile-floor, with a shaved head, in a grey hoodie. She was about Max’s height, looking down at her with an unreadable expression on her wrinkled face. Max saw tattoos on her hands, as she swallowed, and tried to force the words past her dry and chapped lips.

“First time for what?” Max asked.

“Through here in a hospital, in this hospital” the woman said, vaguely gesturing around them, at the sterile, quiet surroundings. “Let me guess, waiting for a friend? Girlfriend maybe? Or even boyfriend? Someone died maybe?”

“That’s a lot of options,” Max found herself saying, as she pulled her thoughts away from Chloe.

“I’ve seen a lot of different things in my day,” the woman replied simply. “You see the same faces over and over, I think some people say, if you live long enough. And it helps to keep an open mind. But you didn’t answer my question, now did you? What happened? Why are you waiting out here at almost midnight?”

“For news, I guess.”

***

“Shit, shit, shit,” Max said, running her hands through her tangled, knotting hair, as Chloe’s truck squealed to a halt, one tire mounting the curb, just outside Max’s dorm at Blackwell.

“Have you heard from her?” Chloe shouted, as they slammed the door shut, behind them, and dashed across the sidewalk.

“Shit!”

“Max, I need you to focus right now. Focus on me, and my voice, take a breath, and tell me”

“No, fuck, Chloe!” Max said, grabbing at the punk’s hands for comfort. “Chloe, do you think she did anything? Is doing anything? Fuck!”

“What about Victoria?” Chloe said firmly, as rain suddenly started to poor down onto their heads. “Or Warren? Anyone? Has anyone gotten back to you and told you when they saw her last?”

“Victoria says she hasn’t seen her all day, and neither has Warren or anyone else I’ve tried. Chloe! What the fuck are we gonna do?”

“We’re gonna start searching her dorms, Caulfield. Come with me. Just stick with me, please.”

***

“It’s hella asynchronous, see,” Chloe said, on the day after Christmas, as Max stayed in their house, “it starts near the end, and jumps all over the place. That is what makes it such a good movie.”

“Dork.”

“Hush, I gotta keep my butch cred.”

“Geek.”

“And my street cred.”

“I’ll fight you?”

“Yeah, sure you will, hippie.”

***

Her door was unlocked. Max hesitated, looking at the small sad heart drawn on the whiteboard outside, but Chloe did not. They pushed the door open with a slam, revealing the dull interior of the dorm room. The lights were off, and a heavy curtain pulled across the window, obscuring whatever illumination would have made it through the clouds and the rain. Clothes were all piled around, along with letters, and trash. And in one corner a violin sat, lonely and abandoned. Max had not even known that Kate had played.

But Kate herself was absent.

“Shit,” Chloe cursed, “I can’t fucking lose someone else.”

“She isn’t here?”

Max turned, from where she stood in the door, to look at the new speaker. As her heart thudded in her chest, and her head hummed, it took her a moment to resolve the figure standing in front of her. It was Victoria, nervously playing with her fingers.

“Victoria!” Chloe roared, as they came out of the room. “I heard about that video and remembered you from Rachel’s parties. Right now the only thing keeping me from beating your ass is that I need to find Kate. So where the fuck is she?”

Max put one hand on the Chloe, but, despite the rage, and the fury on their face, they stayed next to her, as Victoria took two large steps back.

“I didn’t mean to do it. Like, I didn’t know it would go anywhere, and we were both drunk, I thought.”

“Shove it,” Chloe growled. “Where is she? Right now?”

“I don’t know,” Victoria said, shying away, “but over the holiday she sometimes texted me about how much she liked the roof, and how peaceful it was, and how she could secretly get up there where no one would find her.”

“Come on,” Chloe said, grabbing Max’s hand, “I know the way.”

***

“I’m sorry,” Victoria texted.

“Not now, Victoria,” Max replied, three minutes later.

“Where are you? Where is she? Talk to me Max. I fucked up, oh fuck I fucked up, I am so, so sorry.”

“In the hospital, not right now.”

“I can’t…I miss her. I need her, Max. I’m sorry.”

“Fuck off.”

***

“___?”

Chloe started, at the unfamiliar male name, and looked around. The rain was heavier now than it had been, what felt like hours ago, when they had first arrived, or when they had been on the roof with Max, Chloe, and Kate. Their pickup still sat on the curb, and in front of it an ambulance, with its lights pulsating rhythmically in the rainy gloom. Behind the truck a car marked with “campus security” had just come to a stop, and David Madsen was emerging from it.

“Come on,” Chloe said, grinding their teeth together, as they took Max’s hand, and pulled her towards the pickup.

“But, Chloe,” Max said, through the snot, and tears, and rain, as the head of campus security kept shouting at them, “what about Kate?”

“There’s nothing more that we can do for her, Max. I’ll give you a ride, now come on, we have to leave right the fuck now. There’s nothing more to do.”

***

Max looked down at her phone, and then shoved it back into her pocket.

“Busy?” The woman asked.

“Yeah, someone’s blowing up my phone,” Max replied. “But she did something really bad, at a party, with a friend, so she can wait. So, yeah, I’m waiting for news. Like I said. I don’t want to talk about it more with a stranger. No offense, but I don’t know you.”

“Homo sum, humani nihil a me alienum puto.”

“What was that?” Max asked, the strange words momentarily interrupting her panicking trains of thought.

“Nothing,” the woman said, vaguely, “sorry, just killing time before I wander off. And apparently saying pretentious Latin quotes, until I reach the end of my story. But I guess that’s the nature of asynchronicity, you know?”

“Wait, what did you just say?”

“Nothing, Max,” the woman said, waving, as she walked down the hallway, “take care of yourself.”

***

The door from the stairwell swung open, out onto the roof. The rain had picked up, and the light was fading from the grey sky above. Time itself seemed to slow, all around Max. She was dimly aware of Chloe dashing forward, shouting something about first aid, and street medicine. She was even more dimly aware that Victoria was behind her, frantically shouting into her phone for 911. But she had her eyes only focused on Kate.

The Christian girl lay there, water draining around her, soaking into her formal clothes, and plastering her hair to her forehead, as it slipped slowly out of her bun. Her eyes were closed, as Chloe checked for a pulse. She was not moving, and Max felt like the world was falling out under her.

***

“I failed.”

“You didn’t fail,” Warren replied, three seconds later. “Or if you did we all did, I don’t know. I failed too.”

“But she didn’t talk to you, Warren,” Max texted back. “She did talk to me. I could have paid more attention, made different choices. I could have stopped this, if I had just been a better friend. I could have stopped her.”

“No, Max. No.”

***

As the strange woman with the shaved head disappeared around the corner, Chloe finally emerged from the hospital room. They had huge bags under their eyes, and looked bedraggled. It had been hours since they had gotten here to the hospital, and out of the rain. Their clothes had mostly dried, but their hair was a wreck, with their beanie in their hands, as they absentmindedly played with it. Despite everything Max found herself looking at their hair.

It was growing out, the undercut, and the blue, fading out into a sickly green, with blonde roots. It was a mess, just like they were. Max could almost have believed that they had been crying. Before she could stop herself she found she was taking a step forward, and wrapping her arms as tightly around them as she could manage. Chloe hesitated for one moment, and then hugged her back.

“Is this for you or for me?” Chloe said, after a long, long moment of silence.

“Sometimes when you need a hug you have to give someone else a hug. This is me giving you a hug.”

“Yeah, I hella understand that,” Chloe whispered softly, as they finally, slowly, let go of Max.

“So can I go in?” Max said, as she looked up into Chloe’s deep blue eyes.

“Yeah, just, hey, uh, Max?”

“Yes, Chloe?”

“Please be careful. It is shit, I know, making this all about me, but I don’t think I can lose you too. Like Rachel, or, well, you know. Like I seem to lose fucking everything else in my fucking life.”

“Don’t worry, Price, you and me are stuck together.”

***

The last light had left the sky above them, obliterated by the setting sun, and the rain. It poured over the truck, almost too fast for the windshield wipers to keep pace with. It was dark inside the pickup, and above them, as they slowly came to a halt, Max could see the lights of the hospital shining harshly in the gloom.

“Why here?” Max asked, as she looked up at it. “Like, god, fuck, Chloe, why here? Why would someone, some god do this? I don’t understand.”

“Don’t worry, Caulfield,” Chloe said, resting a hand on her shoulder as the engine died. “You and me are stuck together.”

***

“Kate?”

“I’m not her,” the woman in scrubs said, as Max slowly entered the room.

“Who are you?”

“The sitter,” the woman replied, her head bent down, as she idly thumbed through her phone without making eye-contact, “just ignore me.”

“Max?”

Max’s eyes were dragged, almost against her will, to the small, sad figure laying among the sterile white sheets. Something beeped quietly, in the dimly lit hospital room. But even amid the dull, impersonal glow, and the glare of the sitter’s phone, and the drum of the rain on the darkened window, and the almost ghostly pallor of the sheets around her, Kate’s smile still seemed bright.

“Is she okay to touch?” Max asked, turning to the nurse, as Kate waved weakly from the bed.

“Just be gentle,” the sitter said, still not bothering to look up, “she’s had a long, rough day, and she might be here a bit before she’s medically stable enough to get transferred to a psych unit.”

“Kate,” Max said, as she knelt down, beside the bed, taking the girl’s hand in hers, as she felt tears fill her eyes, “I…I am so…I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.”

“No apologies,” Kate said softly, as her eyes flickered closed. “It’s not your fault, but it has been a long, long day. Lots of meds in my system. My brain is all foggy. But I need to apologize.”

“For what?”

“For trying to leave you. Instead of just talking to her about the video. I am so sorry, Max.”

“No apologies, Kate.”

“Chloe was in here just before you. She…they are nice. Hey Max? Can I ask you for a favor?”

“Anything, Kate?”

“Stay with me until I fall asleep?”

“Of course.”

***

“Is she okay?” Chloe asked, as Max re-emerged from the hospital room. “Fuck it all, I am going to find the son of a bitch who did that to her, and make them fucking pay. And also maybe Victoria. And all of Blackwell, and Frank too, if he sold Kate what I think her sold her. And also…”

But before they could finish Max wrapped her arms around them, and rested her head on their shoulder, for a long, solid moment, before letting them go.

“It’s okay,” Max said, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie. “She’s okay, Chloe. Or she’s going to be, at least. They’re keeping her here for a while, and then a psych unit, I think, but I think she regrets it. I just, fuck, I feel that. Someone has to pay for that video. For what they did to her, and for uploading it. Fuck.”

“Hey, hey, Caulfield,” Chloe said, a tone of confidence returning to their voice, as they rested their hands on her shoulders, “it’s okay. You did okay. Hell, you kinda saved her. You’re a goddamn hero. But right now you and me both need to hella chillax.”

“Relax? How? After that day?”

“Come on, I’ll show you.”

“But where?” Max protested, hanging back.

“A surprise. Now come on!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It turns out it's really hard to wait to post a chapter. Another one should come out this weekend, thank you!


	16. Of Organizing Human Beings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After all the heavy times, Max and Chloe recover a little.

“Oh,” Max said, as she stepped out of Chloe’s room, and immediately came to a halt. “I’m sorry, I, shit, I can wait. Sorry.”

“Relax, Caulfield,” Chloe said, as they adjusted the towel around their chest, “I’ve got all the same equipment that you’ve got and if you’re gonna be staying here over the holidays you better get used to having only one bathroom and everything that comes with it. What were you doing in my room alone for so long?”

“Calling my parents, and telling them that I was going to be staying here until next semester,” Max said, trying to keep her eyes locked on Chloe’s face.

“Good, already like having you around, and hope you stick around for a while longer, Supermax.”

***

The house was dark, and all the lights inside where out when Chloe’s truck pulled into the driveway, water sluicing off the hood in sheets. They killed the engine, and looked at the place where they had lived ever since they were kicked out, peering through the downpour. Max sat on the passenger seat and shivered, unable to stop thinking about Kate, and everything that had happened at Blackwell.

“Hella rainy,” Chloe said eventually, with a little laugh, as they shifted in the driver’s seat. “Here, take this, it’ll keep the worst of the rain off you. Time was this would all be snow. We’re not out of winter yet, but I guess that’s climate change, but you still gotta get something better than all your thin grey hoodies, Caulfield.”

Max glanced across at them, and the item they were holding out. Even in the dark she could tell what it was, from the hints of pink and blue patches, and rainbow pins. It was Chloe’s jacket, all modified, and personalized, made from some tough denim. It was the same jacket they were almost always wearing. She nearly said no, but as soon as she reached across and touched it Chloe was out the door in nothing but her jeans and a tank top, leaving Max to run after her, up to the house, through the rain, with the jacket over her head. The door unlocked at Chloe’s fingers, and they both finally stepped inside, out of the deluge.

“Fuck,” Max found herself saying, as she hung the sodden battle jacket on a hook. “Fuck me.”

“Holy shit, Caulfield, you can actually swear from your chest,” Chloe laughed, already sitting on the first step and trying to pry their boots off.

Max brushed her hair out of her face. It was so much longer than the shaggy look she had come to Blackwell with, and she had loved the feeling of it before. But now it just felt tangled, and knotted, and soaked, clinging to her head like bad memories or some dead animal. But then she looked at Chloe, sitting there, smiling, with the grown-out undercut, and their hair-dye washing away, and their smile, and she felt herself giggling too. And then she saw the outline of their sports bra, under their soaked tank top, and she felt herself grow warm.

“Yeah, I can swear,” Max said, nervously, as she looked down at her feet. “What makes you think I couldn’t swear confidently?”

“I mean, you do have the whole shy geek girl egg nerd vibe thing going on,” Chloe said, as they stood to their full height, suddenly seeming uncomfortably close to Max. “So it’s nice to see you being more confident is all, and doing something new. Maybe I am being a bit of a good bad influence on you.”

“Good good influence, more like,” Max laughed nervously. “What was this surprise, though, that you talked about?”

“Oh, right,” Chloe said, snapping their fingers, as they turned, and started running up the stairs, not caring if any of the other housemates were asleep, apparently. “Give me a few seconds, and stay down here. I’ll be back.”

Max turned her attention back to herself, as she heard frantic commotion upstairs. She felt like she was a drowned rat that had just crawled out of a sewer somewhere, as she peeled her hoodie off her skin, and stood there on the welcome mat, acutely aware that Rachel’s old bra, and the new growth behind it, was visible through her soaked t-shirt. As she pulled off her drenched shoes and socks, she heard the water in the bathroom upstairs turn on. And then she heard steps on the stairs above, looked up, and nearly choked on a strand of hair that had fallen into her mouth.

Chloe was not any magazine cover’s idea of what stereotypical, generic, beauty was supposed to look like, Max found herself thinking. They were bony, and tall, and hard in a way that she could not put her finger on. Their hips, their shoulders, their arms, their nose, and the way their face looked under the mess of blue and green rain-wrecked hair that topped their head was all strangely angular. But still, there they were, standing on the stairs in a pair of swim trunks, and a bikini top, grinning down at her, and Max realized for the first time that they were her idea of hot.

They were hot, from their scarred skin, with wiry muscles and big bones underneath it, to the bags under their eyes. The tattoo running up their right arm, all skulls and flowers, was hot. The hair on their legs was hot. Their height was hot. Their confidence was hot. And Max realized she was blushing.

“Is this the surprise?” Max found herself saying, astonished at how bold her own words sounded.

“Would you like it to be?” Chloe grinned back. “But no, the surprise is the hot bath I’ve got getting ready for us, up there. Nothing better for cleaning out old matted hair and warming cold muscles. It’s not a heated pool or anything, like whatever the hell they probably have up at Blackwell, but it works well enough for us dirty-ass punks.”

“Chloe,” Max found herself saying, looking down at her own body, and feeling something between disgust and resignation, “I don’t know about, like, getting a bath with you. It has been a really, really long day with Kate and everything.”

“Exactly why you need some way to relax before you go to sleep,” Chloe snapped, loud enough for other people in the house to hear. “Besides I am not particularly wild about the idea of you sleeping on my bed that soaked and filthy.”

“I don’t exactly have anything to wear.”

“I’m not asking for a peepshow, Caulfield,” Chloe said, putting their hands on their hips, as they turned and walked up the stairs. “I’ve got something for you in my room. Go on, put it on, and meet me in Chloe’s spa. Like, you know, if you want to and all.”

Max opened her mouth to reply, but before she could Chloe was out of sight, disappearing up the stairs. Max heard the door to the bathroom open, then close, and she sighed heavily. Then, without any reason to protest further, she walked up the stairs, and into Chloe’s room.

The room was a wreck, as always, with the now familiar words scrawled on the wall. But there on the sheets was another pair of swim trucks, and another bikini top. Max looked at it, for a long moment. It was laid out for her, on the bed, the only bed in the room, which was a fact she could devote her exhausted brain to later. Chloe had meant it for her, and while it was not theoretically crossing any boundaries she had not exposed this much of herself around anyone ever, as far as she could remember. Something ached in her chest.

“You can’t always be so afraid,” said a voice in Max’s imagination, and she recognized it as Chloe’s, from when they were simply Soft9282008. “Sometimes you have to actually do something that scares you.”

She put on the tank top, and the trunks, and walked across the hallway to the bathroom. It was one of the most terrifying things she thought she had ever done.

“She finally makes an appearance! Thought for sure you were gonna flake out on me, hippie.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh, you know you love it,” Chloe chuckled, “get on in, the water’s warm.”

Max glanced around the bathroom. She had been in here before, of course, over the holidays. She had showered, and bathed here. But never like this, with the lights out, and the only illumination in the room coming from the soft blue glow of a night light plugged into a wall socket. Chloe was curled up in the fetal position, in the filled tub, awkwardly craning their neck to avoid hitting it against the faucet. They were making space for her, Max realized, and, almost without thinking, like she was in some sort of dream, Max felt herself stepping in, and settling into the fetal position on the other end, her feet and Chloe’s touching in the middle, as some water splashed out over the side.

“More than warm, this is really hot, Chloe,” Max said, as she settled down to her chin, and looked across the water at the blue-haired punk, half hidden in shadow.

“You’ll thank me, later,” Chloe grinned.

“Oh, will I?”

“Yeah, absolutely, just not for this, you won’t!”

As they spoke, they splashed water at Max, with a laugh, who splashed them back, indignantly. The mock fight continued until, despite the heat of the water, and the closeness of their bodies in the confined space, Max was giggling uncontrollably. And then she suddenly felt a sob heave out of her chest. And the splashing stopped.

“Shit,” she muttered, wiping her face.

“Hey, are you okay?” The punk asked from the other side of the tub.

“Yeah, yeah,” Max said, her voice a little rougher sounding than she intended to make it. “It’s just hitting me all at once. The dysphoria, and everything. The years waiting. The missing you, too. The closet, and the misgendering. I think Kate just made me experience a lot of emotions all at once.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Chloe said, looking up at the ceiling like they would find answers there. “Kate brought back a lot of heavy feelings for me, too. About the Vortex Club, and Nathan Prescott, and what he did to me. And my life before, talking to you online, when I had no one else. And Rachel too.”

Max hugged her knees into her chest, as she looked across at the punk, looking so weirdly calm, as they talked about such horrible things. Max opened her mouth, and said the only words that came to mind.

“You really loved her, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Chloe said, their voice breaking just slightly. “She saved me. And even a year later, after she just vanished I still want to find her. Or find out what happened, at least. We are going to find the truth. But I’m still hella scared, Max.”

“Chloe Price scared, never,” Max said, forcing a joke out of her mouth, in an attempt to break the tension, “people see you and they say, oh, wow, that’s Chloe Price, they’re that scary punk kid.”

“Don’t make a joke about it,” Chloe said, their voice suddenly harsh, before they seemed to catch it, and reign in their anger. “I am legitimately scared.”

“What by?” Max said, softly, regretting her words.

“What if she left me? What if the girl I fell in love with, who I feel saved me, what if I wasn’t enough for her?”

“Chloe,” Max said, suddenly feeling a deep, unfamiliar ache in her chest, “you are enough. I promise. More than enough. It sucks, but we will find out what happened. I promise. Is there anything at all that I can do to help?”

“Promise you’ll never leave me like that, Max?”

“I promise, Chloe. You and I are stuck together, forever.”

They sat there, in the slowly cooling bathwater, in the dark gloomy glow of the night light for a long time, keeping silent. Max was tired, and despite the hard plastic of the tub digging into her back, and neck, and the warm closeness of Chloe’s body, she knew she dozed off at least a few times. She had no idea how much time had passed, until she felt movement against her legs, and saw Chloe standing up.

“Hang on, Caulfield,” Chloe murmured softly, “I’m gonna go dry off, and then bring you some clothes to sleep in.”

“And you’ll be on the couch?” Max muttered.

“Fuck all that,” Chloe laughed, softly, “I want to sleep in my bed too, I’m hella exhausted. There’s plenty of room for the both of us. And if you’re worried about frisky business remember we just took a bath together, and also I’m too tired to lift a finger. You all okay and comfortable with that?”

“Aye, aye, cap’n.”

“Thin fucking ice, Caulfield. Wait here.”

Max closed her eyes, for one moment, just to enjoy the feeling of her own body relaxing. Then she was standing, toweling off, and combing out her tangled, knotted hair. A few minutes after she had left, Chloe knocked on the door, and then tossed in some clothes. Max was too tired to look at them, as she stripped, and then put them on. The only thing that mattered to her in that moment, as she staggered across the hallway to Chloe’s room, was that they were warm, and dry, as was the bed, as she collapsed into it.

“Talk tomorrow, Chloe?” Max found herself saying, her eyes already flickering shut, and hiding the punk just across the sheets from her view.

“Yeah, get some sleep. You earned it,” Chloe’s voice said, still reaching Max’s ears through the encroaching darkness of sleep.

“You earned it more,” Max muttered. “You’re cereally cool. Hella chill. People see you and go, damn, aren’t they cool?”

“She.”

“What?”

“My pronouns, Max,” Chloe said, and for a moment Max felt something move against her face, soft, and light, before it was quickly withdrawn, “you can use she and her. I am giving you that permission.”

“Cool,” Max said, her tired mind not processing what she was hearing, as she slipped into unconsciousness. “Who’s Chloe? Oh, she’s the punk who is stuck with me.”

“Gladly. Now night, night, Supermax.”

“Night, night, Cap’n.”

She slept soundly, that night, without dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crud, over a hundred kudos, by far the most I have ever gotten, with over half left to go, plus smut. Thank you all so, so, much, I hope you enjoyed and continue to enjoy this, and stay hella cool!


	17. Into Superior and Inferior Groups

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit more softness.
> 
> CW for allusions to suicide and dysphoria.

Max woke up, on the now clean sheets. The sunlight streamed through the rainbow flag on the wall, dazzling the room in a kaleidoscope of colors. She was in her underwear, and a loose t-shirt, and everything felt warm, and hazy. For a moment she allowed herself to not think about anything. She did not think about what she had to do today, where she was, or what had happened. Or anything else. It was just her, and she smiled.

“Hey! Max! You waking up already?”

Max rolled over, saw the empty sheets beside her, and the reality of the day came rushing back to her. It was her last morning here. It had been her last night sleeping in this bed. It was her last day of winter vacation, before she would have to return to Blackwell. Victoria, Kate, Warren, and all the rest would be coming back, and planning their parties, and having fun. Soon she would be taking classes with Mark Jefferson himself. And yet, for a moment, as she looked at the other side of the bed, she felt like her heart was falling. She did not want to leave this strange house full of punks. She did not want to leave Chloe.

“Yo! Dorkface! The chick upstairs asleep in my bed!” Their voice came again, from downstairs. “Are you coming? I know you need to get to Blackwell, and away from me, plus I made you breakfast again.”

“Coming!” Max said, as she shuffled out of bed, looking for clothes.

***

“So,” Chloe said, nonchalantly, as their truck came to a stop outside the main entrance to Blackwell, “hang out again sometime, Caulfield? There are a few cool places I know around the city I'd like to show you.”

"What places? And why?"

"Gonna miss you, hippie. Don't understand why you want to be at this bougie-ass place."

“Are you coming up onto the campus?” Max asked, as she hooked her backpack over her shoulder.

“Nah, probably not a good idea after the bathroom,” the punk replied, as they killed the engine. “But you didn’t answer my question. I think you’re hella rad, wanna thrash some time? Leave a skid mark on this town?”

“Sure,” Max found herself grinning, despite everything, as she opened the passenger door. “Be seeing you around Cap’n.”

“Wait, Max!” Chloe said, sharply, just as Max moved to step out of the pick up.

“Yeah? What is it?”

“This morning,” Chloe started, looking down at their hands, which they flexed and unflexed, “I got bored, so I chatted up Warren and he got me into the old account you and me used to message with. Remember? Soft and Angel?”

“Oh,” Max started, and then suddenly felt unbearably hot, as the realization spread across her. “Oh, god!”

“Yep,” Chloe said, firmly planting their hands on the steering wheel.

“So you saw…that message?”

“Yeah, but no worries,” Chloe said, suddenly laughing, and smiling, “it’s childhood cringe, right? Everyone does that. Water under the bridge. Forget about it, and no need to apologize. Just wanted to let you know.”

“Right,” Max replied, still flushed, frozen half way in and half way out, unsure how to process this information.

“Right, right,” Chloe said, forcefully. “Well, I’m sure you’ve got bougie teachers to learn from, hippie. Go on, get! And text me some time.”

“Right, right,” Max said, automatically, as her feet took her away from Chloe, and towards Blackwell. “Bye, Chloe.”

***

Max woke up, on the dirty sheets. Her eyes were hazy, and unfocused, as she drifted in and out of consciousness for a while. She was aware that she was in Chloe’s room, and, just for a moment, before she thought of anything else, she allowed herself to smile. And then she was aware of the grit in her eyes, and the shampoo in her hair, and the clothes she did not recognize on her body, and everything, from meeting with Kate, to the bathtub and Chloe afterwards, came rushing back to her.

She rolled over, onto her side, and then froze.

They were asleep right there. Ragged undercut, growing out into a blue-green-blonde mess of hair that desperately needed hours of care. Intense eyes firmly closed, and hidden from view. Their skinny, wiry, angular frame loosely covered by the sheets. They had only a pair of boxers and a loose tank top on, much the same as Max herself. Just a few inches of dirty sheets between them.

“What are you thinking?” They said, without opening their eyes.

“Chloe?”

“Yup, no one else here. What’s on your mind, Max?”

The sunlight filled the room, in a dazzling rainbow of hues that caught every mote of dust in the air. Max knew that objectively it was filthy, and stank of cigarettes, weed, and old clothes. But for one moment, as her mind wandered back to that old message she had sent, years ago, she thought that it was the best thing she had ever smelled. But her mouth babbled on.

“Oh you know,” she said hurriedly, “just thinking about my friend, how I could lay here with them forever.”

“She,” Chloe said, her eyes suddenly fluttering open, dazzlingly blue.

“What?” Max asked, as memories of the day before came back to her, the bathroom, the attraction, and before, what Chloe had said.

“I am telling you to call me she,” Chloe said, softly, her gaze not wavering.

“Why?”

“Gender is a fuck,” Chloe said, with the slightest of shrugs. “A lot of the time, most of the time, I don’t trust people to see me as a girl. I want to be too fucking hardass for that. But you I trust not to hurt me with it.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

The space stretched between them, and the silence too. Once again Max was aware of how close they were. It would take so little effort to reach across those sheets and touch them. What would they feel like, she wondered? Had estrogen softened their skin? Would they be hairy? Smooth? What would lay between…

She caught her thoughts, suddenly rolling away from Chloe. She was acutely aware of the stubble on her shins, and what she was sure had to be visible facial hair. She was aware of her proportions, all bony and wrong, and what lay between her legs. She could not and would not go any further.

“So, right,” Chloe said, with a cough, also rolling onto her back, “enough mushy shit then, Caulfield?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Max said, laughing nervously as she sat up, onto the edge of the bed. “Something like that. It’s just been a little since I woke up in this room, after the holidays, and everything. A lot has changed.”

“For one thing there’s this smelly punk here and a lot of her clothes,” Chloe laughed, as she rolled off the bed, and started rummaging through a pile in the corner. “Speaking of which, as much as I like the view, why don’t you go and have a look through the closet for something to wear?”

“I thought I’d already gone through all of Rachel’s old stuff?” Max said, as she padded over in her bare feet.

“Ooh! You are right. The bra and everything. Looks like you are going to have to wear some of my clothes. You’re welcome to the tanks, the bras, the boots, the jeans, the anarchy hoodie, but don’t even dream about touching my battle jacket!”

“I don’t know,” Max shouted over her shoulder, as she slid open the closet door and looked inside. “A lot of this is not my style. Way too much skin. What about this big yellow hoodie here?”

“No! Anything but that!” Chloe’s voice shouted back.

“Oh, embarrassing memories?” Max asked, turning around, intent on teasing the punk, only to suddenly find her standing closer than she had expected.

Chloe was not smiling, but she was not frowning, either. For a moment something strange crossed her face, hungry and reaching. Max saw her hand flicker upwards, for just one brief second, before she caught it. And then suddenly the desire was plastered over, and replaced by her normal, confident, taunting grin, full of crooked teeth.

“Nah, nothing like that,” the punk grinned, as she reached out, her hand grabbing the soft, giant yellow hoodie max held in front of her. “You know all your grey dysphoria hoodies? This was mine, back when I ran away from home.”

“Good,” Max said, her own grin returning, “just what I need to hide in.”

“No, not that,” Chloe countered, her smile widening, “you're hella pretty, Caulfield. No more hiding!"

"But I want to hide," Max protested. "Dysphoria, you know?"

"Yeah, of course I know!" Chloe said, their face suddenly close, and hot, and their eyes intense. "I'm me, we had all those old talks. I know how it is, and I am saying you need to do something to get out of your shell."

"Like what?" Max shouted, feeling her smile fading, as her nose nearly touched Chloe's.

The taller punk froze. They were still grinning, their lips open, just a little, and tucked up in the corner. They were so close to her. She was so close, Max corrected herself. She was soft, and her skin looked warm, and the rainbow light filtering in from the window, through the pride flag outlined her in a dizzying variety of hues. She remembered the message, and the talks, and the pronouns, and suddenly she felt herself growing very, very warm. Something stirred inside her stomach, traveling down, between her legs, coming alive for the first time ever, it felt like.

Chloe looked away first, still grinning wider, and suddenly, Max realized, blushing too. She chuckled, as she spoke.

"I just had the stupidest teenage thought." Chloe said, with a little laugh.

"Tell me?"

"Nah, it's the sort of thing I'd do when I was like nineteen," Chloe said, waving it away.

"Seriously, Chloe," Max said, grabbing Chloe's hand, and letting the yellow hoodie fall down at her feet, "tell me? Please?"

"When you asked what you could do, well, I nearly dared you to kiss me, Max."

She was stuck, in a little smile, surrounded by a rainbow. At her feet Max felt the hoodie, and in her pocket her phone started vibrating. She was right there, and the moment seemed to stretch out forever, spiraling off into infinity.

She moved, standing up onto the tips of her toes, and kissed Chloe. For a moment she thought the punk would pull away, in shock, as she moved under her lips. But then she seemed to catch herself, and leaned in. Her arms moved, wrapping around Max, slowly at first, touching her arms, and then traveling up to her shoulders. Their lips opened, and closed, and they breathed together. The two of them moved together, just for a moment.

Then she felt her phone going off again, and suddenly Chloe was stepping back, her eyes wide, and her smile almost silly.

"Damn, Max," she murmured, "you're hardcore."

"Shit," Max said, suddenly aware of how unromantic those words were, as they slipped past her lips.

"What is it? Fuck, did you not want to do that?"

"I'm late for class," Max said, as she reached down and grabbed the yellow hoodie. "And I've got an email from the Dean of Students. I need to go now."

"Max," Chloe said, a look approaching hurt crossing her face, "you don't have to do that. Come on, all those bougie fucks will be just fine without you. Stay here with me."

"Chloe," Max said, taking the punk's hand, and looking up into her eyes. "I...I don't know what I feel about you. But I lived through all of...everything I used to talk to you about. My parents sacrificed so much for my dream. They moved heaven and earth just so I could go to Blackwell, and learn from Mark Jefferson. I can't lose it. I need to go."

Chloe sighed, heavily, her eyes cast down, still lit by rainbow shades.

"Then I will take you."


	18. On Which This System Still Depends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nathan, Wells, Jefferson, David, and an old face all at once.
> 
> CW misgendering, and discussions of suicide, overdose, drug use, and dead naming.

"Ms. Caulfield?"

Max started, the words familiar, practiced, and casual, and the voice one she knew. And yet it was still a shock hearing it for the first time. She spun around, on her heel, and saw the speaker standing there.

"Mr. Jefferson?"

"Please, Max," he said, stroking his beard, "call me Mark."

"Mark," Max said, the words stumbling out of her mouth, "what are you doing outside the Dean's office?"

"The same thing you are doing here, Max, I would assume," Jefferson said, with a little chuckle. "It is still okay if I call you Max, right?"

"Uh, sure," Max said, fiddling with the string of the yellow hoodie she had taken from Chloe's closet, her brain trying race ahead to conclusions, and process what was happening.

"Ms. Caulfield," a deep, rumbling voice said, from the other side of the intimidating looking door in front of them both, "you can come in. Jefferson! You too."

Max was shaking. She had not eaten that day. This very morning she had kissed Chloe, and just the day before Kate had ended up in the hospital. She had been told to come here, and she had, missing her classes for the first time ever in her college career. Her palms were sweating and her stomach churned as she walked through the door, and still all she could think about was the long silent ride back to Blackwell in Chloe's pickup.

"Oh, she's here too," a frighteningly pale boy in expensive clothes said from the inside of the office.

Max recognized him as Nathan Prescott, from the bathroom. Aside from his gaunt expression there was no sign of the stab wound Chloe had inflicted on him nearly a semester ago. He was slouched across one of the two rich, leather chairs dragged in front of a huge ornate desk. He lazily looked up at Max and Professor Jefferson, before his eyes flicked back down, to the man across the table, in front of the huge windows, drenched in sunlight.

Max knew Mr. Wells, of course, the Dean of Students at Blackwell. Or she knew of him, rather. He was always such a distant authority figure. People like him were not part of her life. Do her jobs, keep her head down, make it through, that was all she had been focused on. And now she was here in front of him. As Max froze, her feet rooted to the door, another tall male figure, David Madsen, the head of campus security, entered, and closed the door behind him.

"First off, Ms. Caulfield," Wells said, carefully, and deliberately, overemphasizing the first syllable out of his mouth, "would you mind taking a seat? I think we have some things to discuss."

"Wait, how, how did you," Max began, as she sat, her legs feeling numb underneath her, as her brain finally processed what she was hearing. "How did you know?"

"We are here to discuss certain troubling events that have taken place on this campus, over the past few months," he said, carefully, as he sat down, and opened a manila folder full of loose paper on his desk. "After the troubling events with poor Ms. Marsh yesterday, I have been tasked with finding an...amenable resolution, for all parties concerned. In particular, Ms. Caulfield, I was interested in your involvement, and the other figure who was seen on that roof. So I called your parents. They know, and they told me."

"Oh," Max said, feeling like some chain in her chest had just snapped, and sent her plummeting into darkness, unsure what else to say about being outed so cruelly.

Nathan muttered something darkly under his breath.

"Blackwell prides itself on being a diverse and inclusive environment, safe for students of all backgrounds. We have a great number of services available for you, as I am sure you know from your time in the writing center last semester. I expect you will find all of our considerable student resources most welcoming in...helping you."

"Good to finally meet the real Max," Jefferson said, patting her on the shoulder, as he loomed behind her.

"Right," Max muttered, remembering the rich kids she had helped, Victoria and the rest, and how whatever resources were there for her she did not want to use them, and did not think they could help her any more than they had helped Kate.

"However, Ms. Caulfield, we are not here to discuss your...personal challenges. We are here, rather, to discuss the events surrounding the very nearly tragic occurences last night. It is my understanding that you found Ms. Marsh incapacitated on the roof, is that correct?"

"Convenient," the head of security, David, mumbled.

"Yes," Max said simply.

"Very good," Wells continued, pressing forward, "now, please think long and hard about how you want to answer this next question. Victoria Chase is above suspicion. I have reviewed the footage that was leaked online, and do not think she could possibly be responsible. But aside from her and Kate, was anyone else on the roof with you?"

"Wait," Max said, her brain finally starting to process again, as she leaned forward, "what footage? What happened?"

"Our dear Kate apparently got white girl wasted at a party awhile back," Nathan laughed. "Made out with Victoria, I think. Sloppy. Someone got it on video and it spread around before it got taken down."

"Mr. Prescott," Wells snapped.

"What?" The younger Prescott retaliated. "She's still alive. Barely took enough pills to get buzzed, and gets to spend a week in a hospital! It's not like she died or anything."

"Mr. Prescott," Wells started, before he suddenly seemed to catch his anger, and continue several notes lower, and a lot quieter, "I am aware of how...important your father is to this institution's continued financial success, and the...exonerating evidence we went over previously, but I would ask you to please keep a civil tongue in your head."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

"Ms. Caulfield," Wells continued firmly, plastering a smile onto his face, as her turned and faced her again, "we have reason to believe that an individual going by the name of Chloe Price has been trespassing on campus. Security cameras caught...her, I believe, putting posters and graffiti on Blackwell property several times last semester."

"PC bullshit," David Madsen muttered from over Nathan's shoulder, "his name is _____."

"David!" Jefferson snapped, this time, "remember, we are an accepting campus."

"Max," Wells said, and this time something about his smile set off alarm bells in her head, "we know that Ms. Price has been on school property. David saw her coming off the roof with you. We have your statement from the police that a blue haired figure stabbed Mr. Prescott here and sent him to the hospital. We believe it was her."

"Fuck yeah it was," Nathan muttered.

"However, with some...counsel I have come up with a solution to all of our little problems. The Prescotts have decided not to press charges, and I see no reason to pursue the matter further."

"Wait," Max said, weakly, her hand nervously playing with the string of the yellow hoodie, as her brain kept trying to catch up with the rest of the conversation happening around her, "Nathan was at that party. Why isn't he under investigation?"

"Mr. Prescott is under no investigation, and is a victim in all of this," Wells said, through gritted teeth, "you, however, have been known to associate with someone who stabbed one of my students in the bathroom, and who also may have been involved with Ms. Marsh's unfortunate incident. There are some reports that she was at that party, and that she is known to associate with drug users. That is more than enough to suspect she may have had some involvement in this whole near disaster."

"Wait, this is bullshit," Max found herself saying, the words escaping her mouth before she could stop them. "Chloe would never do that."

"Whatever Ms. Price may or may not have done is a matter for the police, not me," Wells snapped back at her, "however it is my duty to protect this school, and its students, and to do that I am placing you on probation."

"What?"

Jefferson and David shuffled awkwardly, as Nathan grinned. But Wells looked away from her, like he felt guilty, as he moved the papers around in the folder.

"You're a scholarship kid, I see. Smart, hard working, two jobs. That must be exhausting. On top of all your...personal issues no doubt. You aren't like a lot of our students, Ms. Caulfield, and yet you clearly always wanted to go here. Mr. Jefferson in particular tells me you're driven to excel in photography."

"Max has a drive few people have," he said, almost proudly.

"Yes, well, Max, you don't need to be scared. This probation is mostly ceremony. Your scholarship and all the rest will be fine. On one condition."

"What?" Max said, once again feeling like the bottom was falling out of everything, her voice barely a whisper.

"You must refrain from all contact with Ms. Price, and she will be arrested for trespassing if she is seen here again. Do I make myself clear?"

Max paused. She felt like she was crying, or about to cry, but her eyes and mouth were almost painfully dry. This whole time, sitting here, her emotions had been running all over the place, down into her chest, and up into her throat. She was starving, and anxious, and she had kissed Chloe this morning. But against that she weighed Jefferson, all of her dreams, her passions, and what her parents had sacrificed so much to achieve. She looked down at the yellow hoodie, and then back up again.

***

Max walked out of the office, David and Nathan already ahead of her, almost sprinting down the hallway in their eagerness to escape. She felt numb. All the rampant emotions had left her, replaced with the icy weight of what she had just done, and what had just happened. She had been outed, and strong armed, and then compelled to not contact the punk she had kissed mere hours before. She felt a soft hand on her shoulder.

"You made the right choice, Max," Jefferson said, as he walked past her, "and I look forward to teaching you so much more. You're gonna have a fantastic career."

She stood there, frozen once again, as he walked away from her, casually, with his hands in his pockets, and another man emerged from behind him. He was familiar, this other figure, with his expensive, well-tailored suit, and confident smile. Max had seen him before. Prescott Senior.

"Max," he said, easily as he pulled out a wallet, and started leafing through it, "the woman of the hour. I heard that you and Wells came to a little understanding. No one goes to jail, no cops, no lawyers, and you get to stay here at Blackwell. Isn't that nice? Of course, I was thinking to myself, she still needs to eat, doesn't she? Why don't I just treat her to something nice, for Nathan, you know. So here you go, and don't spend it all at once!"

He walked away, with a confident wave, and Max did not even bother to look at the green objects in her hand.

***

End Part Two


	19. The Feminist Agenda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flash forward in time, and a return to the old texts. And a return to normalcy?
> 
> CW for discussion of assault, suicide, and transphobia.

Part Three: Opposition

***

"'Sup Maxmantha! How were all the rich dudes? Bougie?"

"Hey, Max, hope you're good! Wanna hang this weekend?"

"Eh, no worries, anyway."

"How about tonight?"

"Hey, Max, been a few days, you all good?"

"Are we good?"

"K, just fucking ignore me I guess."

"Sorry, fuck, didn't mean to snap like that."

"Max, are you okay? Please. I haven't heard from you in nearly two weeks. Please reply to me when you see this?"

"Max?"

"Max?"

"Listen, if you're pissed at me for the kiss, please just tell me, I'm hella sorry. I not looking for you to come back or trying to get in your pants or anything just...listen, fuck, after Rachel I want to make sure you're okay. That you're safe. I hella care about you, okay? Like, yeah, a lot."

"Hey, Chloe."

"Oh shit," Chloe texted back thirty seconds later, "fuck, Max, are you okay? Are you safe? Kate was in the hospital and Warren wasn't helpful. What the fuck happened?"

"I can't text, Chloe."

"What, why? What the fuck are you doing?"

"I'll lose my scholarship," Max replied, twenty minutes later. "It's not fair, I know. And I'm sorry. I care a lot about you too. A lot a lot. But I sacrificed so much to be here. To study here. And I can't lose it. I'm sorry. If you want to curse at me, drive me away, be mad at me, I understand."

"...just go."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, guess we've both screwed up now. Sorry, too, for what I did. For everything."

***

Max sighed, and took a step backwards, looking at the pictures arrayed on the wall of her dorm room. This was her own space. She had survived the entire long summer, and everything that had happened in it, and she was back here, now. She was back at Blackwell, for her Sophomore year.

The summer had sucked. Her parents had been supportive of her gender since the earliest days, when she was just talking to Chloe online. They had always loved their daughter. But they did not understand her. They knew she loved photography more than anything, and they supported it, but they had not understood why she was so quiet, and nerdy. Almost a cliche, really. They had not understood why she had stayed in the closet so long, and had not understood, at first, the monumental disservice they had done her in outing her against her will.

And because of them this last summer had truly sucked. Or, rather, in part because of them. Other things had happened, of course, both before and during. But it was their actions that had led to the flurry of Blackwell emails hounding her about dorms, and paperwork, and pronouns, and names. But she had survived. She was still Max. She was still herself, and no one else. And now she was standing here, having finished decorating her own dorm room, in one of the girl's dorms.

The pictures were spread out in front of her like a collage. No good pictures, though. Too many selfies. No pictures of friends. Not that she had many friends to speak of, really. No pictures of Chloe. No pictures for whatever stupid contest Professor Jefferson had been emailing all his students about.

No, she stopped her train of thought. She had come to Blackwell for photography. She had saved, and worked, and slaved away, and applied for parasitic loans for photography, and there was no better professor here than Mark Jefferson. It was unofficially recognized that he pretty much was the entire department, and he had personally recognized Max, last year, in the last few weeks of school. He had said she had promise, and she thought he had probably pulled strings to get her into his class again this semester.

If only it had not cost her so much.

She shook her head, trying to stop thinking the thoughts running through her mind.

Outside her door people were talking. Women. Cis women. Girls. There were two girls named Dana and Juliet, who seemed close, a quiet girl named Alyssa, more whose names she did not know, and worst of all, somehow, on the same wing as her Victoria Chase. Even the thought of her, and all the others, made Max heart race. She fiddled with the string of yellow hoodie she wore constantly, despite the summer's warmth. She had started hormones young enough that she did not need laser, or electrolysis, her parents told her, as if she could even afford it. She passed fine, they said. She was just like any other college girl.

But she was not. She knew that. And worst of all, even if the rest of the dorm was commanded to be superficially accepting by Wells, they knew too. They knew who she was. Victoria knew. And she was terrified.

If only Kate was actually here, at Blackwell itself.

Max checked her phone, as she absentmindedly watered her plant, Lisa. Messages from her parents, of course, wishing her a fantastic day, and wondering how she was settling in. Even Warren had texted her about some sort of movie thing. But she was not interested in any of that right now. She flipped through her phone, until she found Kate, and began typing.

***

"Hey, Kate."

"Hey! Max!" Kate replied, five minutes later. "How's Blackwell. Classes start...tomorrow, right? They start in a week here at the community college."

"Yeah, yeah, they do," Max texted back. "How is life treating you and your dad?"

"Really good. It's good to actually be near downtown, where I can help people and also walk into my classes. A little cramped, yeah, and the land lord isn't nice, but Alice loves the apartment."

"Good. I am glad."

"Hey, Max? I know I have already said this like, a million times, but thank you so much. Without the money you gave us, with my mom, and, like, everything that happened this summer when she...she found out who I was and about the video, well, I don't know what my dad and me would have done. And instead of being homeless we were able to move here, he was able to find work and I've even got my classes."

"It wasn't my money. Someone gave it to me, like I said. I'm just glad it went to a good cause."

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again, but you're an angel, Max."

"That would be you, Kate."

"Then I guess you're this angel's angel. But what can I help you with today?"

"I guess I just wanted to say hello to a friendly face."

"Hello! Sorry I'm not up there at Blackwell, but, well, you know."

"Memories."

"Yep. And money too. But you take care of yourself."

"Will do."

***

Kate did not text her back. Max sighed, as she sat down on the bed. She saw the name staring back at her, of course, reminding her of all the long summer, and before, with the bath, and the kiss. She had not meant to do what she had done. She had not enjoyed it. But Jefferson mattered. Photography mattered. Her thumb hovered over the name, and then she lay back down, with a heavy sigh.

A sudden sharp, short knock on her door broke her out of her haze. She checked herself once in the mirror, mussing her brown hair, back and forth, and regretting the bangs. She looked...boring, really. Like herself. Maxine Caulfield, in the flesh. She sighed, and went to open the door.

"Victoria?"

"Hey, Max."

"I...what are you doing here?"

The blonde was just as impeccable as the first day Max had met her, what seemed like a life, and a gender ago. She was buttoned up, calm, and collected. Steely, was the right word for her. But Max had heard of the video. She knew that she had kissed Kate, and she had seen her crying, on the roof top, in the rain. It had been all summer, but Max still felt on edge, defensive, and ready for prejudice, or whatever snide comments she might hurl.

"Just checking to see how you're settling into the dorms. The girls, dorms, I, umm. Guess. No, that's stupid."

"Uhhh, fine?"

Max looked at her face remembering what she had done to Kate, when Kate was far, far too inebriated to even remember. She remembered rescuing Kate from that party, along with Chloe, and how, thanks to Wells, no doubt, nothing had come from that. She had no way of knowing if it was Victoria who had drugged Kate, or even if Kate had been drugged. But she had kissed the Christian girl. And who knows what else would have happened if Chloe and she had not been there. She felt something boil inside her, and focused on Chloe. What would Chloe do in a situation like this? What would she say, and how would she act? She tried to let that guide her.

"Good, well, I know that you and I will be taking Mark's class together, so I figure we would need to figure some things out between us." Victoria continued, a little awkwardly.

"Mark?" 

"Mr. Jefferson," Victoria said, with an exaggerated sigh. "Mark. And, well, everything that happened last semester still happened."

"Victoria," Max said, speaking slowly, and deliberately, "are you apologizing to me?"

"I don't think I have anything to apologize for. At least, not to you specifically."

"You did call me a boy a lot of times," Max said, trying to channel what Chloe would have said. "There is that. I think your precise words were, what, sad boy?"

"Listen, you weren't out yet, so it can't be transphobia. Like, if anything it's your own fault for not telling me," Victoria started, before catching herself, like she was trying to be more polite. "Listen, Max, I get, like, everything. I'm not a bigot, and it's not bigoted to call you a little bit of a bitch, sometimes. But, like, this isn't about your gender things, or why you are here, or anything, this is solely about the Vortex Club and...everything, last semester. I'm still a part of it and it matters to me, but I know...what happened. So I figure you and I need to talk about it."

"You want to talk about how you were involved in a party where Kate got drunk, maybe drugged, and somewhere in there you kissed her," Max snapped. "Or did you want to talk about how she tried to overdose, went to a psych hospital, and got outed, which made her parents break up? Or do you even care about any of that?"

"I do," Victoria began, with a slight waver to her lower lip, "I do care. But I don't remember what happened that night either. I was too wasted to remember. And I am not leaving my friends. This is my world, Max. And I need to find out some way of getting through this next semester with you here."

"So do you want to settle it right here? Right now? In this hallway, where everyone can hear us?"

Victoria paused, took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and then spat her next words out with venom.

"You are being such a little bitch right now, you know that right? No, not right here in this filthy hallway. Off campus, somewhere. Dinner. I'll buy you it. You could probably use it, and never afford the places where I eat either."

"What?" Max asked, both the internal model of what Chloe would ask, and herself failing to think of any other response.

"Dinner. I'll pick you up out the dorm, this Friday," Victoria replied, with renewed confidence, as she turned on her heel, and stalked away. "I am not asking again."

Max stood in her door, and watched her go. This did not make sense in any timeline, she found herself thinking. And her mind could not make sense of it. She glanced once more at the name on her phone, before she returned to her dorm room and shut the door behind her.


	20. Is Not About Equal Rights for Women

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Texting and dining.
> 
> CW for gender dysphoria.

"So, like, are you ever gonna just text me then?"

"I can't," Max replied, five minutes later. "I just can't."

"Why ever the fuck not?" Chloe texted back, twenty seconds later.

"Because I'll lose my scholarship! We've been over this already, Chloe, and I don't know if I can deal with going over it again. Please."

"You'll lose your scholarship according to who? Wells? Blackhell? Come on, I know a little bit about infosec and I seriously, seriously doubt that they have the ability to spy on our text messages. Stop being so afraid to live your life, Max!"

"Wait?"

"Wait what?"

"Wait, really?"

"Yep. Really."

"Shit," Max said, three minutes later, "and I am already back home with my parents for the summer. Goddamnit I am sorry Chloe, I should have texted."

"Yep, you should have."

"I'm a dumbass, aren't I?"

"Yep," Chloe replied, "a bit. But you're my dumbass, and at least we're texting again. So, got any hot plans for this summer?"

***

On Monday Max sat in class, as Jefferson reviewed his photography equipment, and talked about lighting, and how to get the most possible out of a subject.

"You really, really need to make sure you have your full attention on the subject," he said, walking between the circle of desks around him. "We aren't wildlife photographers, or paparazzi, or spies after all, with some extreme long-distance lens. And unfortunately that normally means talking to people, and getting their consent. So make sure you get out of your shells, if you want to take pictures of people. It's a skill a lot of photographers ignore, but actually talking to people is really, really important."

Max took notes, and tried to ignore Victoria sitting on the other side of the room, staring at her.

***

"Now, tell me," Jefferson said, asking the question to everyone, in his Wednesday class, "what might be a good way of getting a picture of someone without their knowledge, especially in light of what we talked about on Monday?"

"I don't understand," Alyssa replied, frowning, "I thought you said on Monday that we needed to talk to our subjects."

"It's an open ended question, Alyssa," Jefferson said, his head in his hand. "I'm not looking for a specific answer, I am just asking all of you to engage the question in a thoughtful, meaningful way. I would have thought that that was clear from context."

"Well," Victoria, said, glancing over at Max as she spoke, "if I were to do it I would ask for their consent for a period of time. Like, maybe to follow them through the day and take pictures. Then I could get when when they weren't so aware of me being there."

"Exactly," Jefferson replied, with a big smile, "thank you, Victoria. Keen answer, as always."

Victoria glanced over at Max, who buried her face in her notes.

***

During Friday's class Max did not even look up from her notes, as Jefferson talked on and on about lighting, and how to pose subjects. She ignored his normal sarcastic side comments, and stories about his own many, many shoots. She knew that Victoria was over there, looking at her. She knew that the short-haired blonde would be smirking at her. And she knew that if she looked up and saw Victoria she would be unable think about anything except for the dinner the two had planned together, for that evening.

She almost ran out of the class, when it was done.

***

"So, anything you miss about Blackhell?" Chloe texted.

"I mean, it's a week into the summer," Max texted back. "I'm going back to it in the fall. And it's not like you're there, for me to miss you."

"Awww you do miss me. Adorable. But what about Warren? Victoria? Oooh? Have a soft spot for the ice queen?"

"Chloe, stop."

"Heh, I hit a nerve there, didn't I?"

"Chloe!"

"Max and Vic...Max and Tori...damn why does her name have to be that long? I am trying to embarrass you."

"I swear."

"Oh, come on, you miss me, dork. And you miss getting teased."

"Shut up."

"Is that a yes?"

"It's not a no."

"Ha, I knew it."

***

Max looked at the clothes in her closet, and felt the heat rise in her face. What did people even wear to dinners? What was she supposed to wear? She did not know. She should have bought more girl clothes already, right? Or fancier clothes. No, she thought. Who was she kidding. She could afford nothing more. She pulled out her best pair of jeans, the ones that had avoided most of cleaning chemicals, and grabbed the now familiar yellow hoodie, the one she had worn so, so many times since Chloe had given it to her, months ago.

She got dressed, and looked at herself in the mirror. She had been on hormones for over a year now, and had even got her dose raised. Her hair was growing out further and further, and her freckles were still there. But she did not like herself. She walked out of the dorm, and out to front of the building, where the road passed by it, waiting for Victoria. She did not have to wait long, although the vehicle that rolled up to her was not one she expected.

"Are you getting in or not, sad girl?"

"Oh, uh, right," Max replies, after a moment, as she consciously forced her mouth to close, looking at the blonde yelling at her from the huge, shining, new Ford, "on my way."

"I swear," Victoria Chase complained, as Max climbed up, into her truck, and slammed the door shut, "if you say anything about the truck I am going to never talk to you again."

"I won't," Max said, hurriedly, looking down at her hands.

There was a moment of silence, between them, as Victoria guided the enormous truck off campus. And then, suddenly, she was speaking.

"My dad made his wealth in fracking. He got me the truck when I went to Blackwell. He loves them, but I hate it."

"I wasn't asking about it!"

"Yeah," Victoria said, the eye roll audible in only her tone, "but you were thinking it."

"Listen, Victoria," Max said, trying to channel Chloe, as she looked up at the rich girl, "I know we aren't friends, or whatever. Like, maybe we could be, in another life, but I don't know if we are or ever will be in this life. So now that you finally have me to yourself will you please just tell me what is going on?"

"I don't want to be friends."

"What?"

"I don't want to be friends," Victoria replied coolly. "I am not doing this for you. I am taking you out to this dinner as a favor to someone else. I am trying to get in the good graces of someone else, not you Max."

"Wait, what? Who?"

"I'll tell you later, just sit still, and wait until we get there."

***

"Hey, Max!"

"Hey, Katie," Max replied, ten minutes later, "sorry, I was texting Chloe."

"Heh, funny about that. I wanted to ask you about her."

"Oh? What do you mean?"

"So," Kate texted back, thirty seconds later, "you and her are talking right? You talked over the summer?"

"Yep."

"Right, cool, because Blackwell couldn't really effectively monitor your phones, although if you're seen together then you get in trouble."

"Yep, where is this going Kate?"

"Right, so, like, are you too together?"

"Kate!" Max texted back, twenty minutes later.

"What! We've been texting all summer about my crush on Victoria, and coming out. I saw how you too were acting."

"We kissed."

"Ooh la la."

"Nothing more though! We aren't together! Why are you asking?"

"No reason, don't worry about it, Max."

***

The restaurant was fancy, but less so than Max had feared. It was less fine, European dining than rich, expensive American food. There were other people in jeans and hoodies, scattered across the  
restaurant, despite Victoria in her tight pants, and button up. Instead Max found herself worrying about her dysphoria again. What did she look like to these people, she wondered, as she sat, and  
a waiter poured water in front of her. Did she look like a woman? Or some reject, anxious wreck of boy, hiding in her hoodie.

She did not belong here.

"Pick whatever you want on the menu," Victoria said, looking at herself, and not bothering to glance across the table at Max, "I can pay for it."

"Oh, okay," Max said, unable to stop looking at all the prices displayed there.

"Where are they?"

"Where are who?" Max asked, looking up, at Victoria.

"Oh, thank god, I thought we were actually going to have that conversation go further. There they are."

Max followed her eyes, towards the door, looking for what she was looking at. And there she saw them, both, for the first time in person since last semester. They were both walking through the doorway of the restaurant, arm in arm, with smiles on both faces. It was Chloe and Kate.

Kate was dressed so much different than she had been last time Max had seen her in the hospital, in a sundress, showing her legs, and a smile on her face. But while Chloe was wearing nice jeans, and a vest over a t-shirt, she still looked so much the same as the first time Max had seen her in person, after their years of talking together online. She was grinning, a long tattoo along her arm, and her hair chopped short, and dyed blue. And as Max watched Chloe moved her arm around Kate's shoulder, and kissed her on her temple, as the shorter girl grinned.


End file.
